# Seven Shades



## the_unchanged

This is my first Fan fic ive posted here so let me know what you guys think. 

It's a tale concerning the much lamented and often misunderstood Rainbow Warriors, however it is not a comedy, I intend to make them cool again or at the very least relevant!

Here goes - 

*EDIT:- at the bequest of Dark Angel I've added a Dramatis Personae.


* Dramatis Personae*

*The Venerable Brothers of the Rainbow Warriors*

*Bifrost* - Lord Captain Commander, Lord of Priism and 1st of the Rosians
*Acatlotzin* - Rosian, 2nd to Bifrost
*Namacuix* - 2nd in command of the Rainbow Warriors Chapter, Lord of Tonal and the Azuls
*Borlung* - Azul, Namacuix's Adjutant.
*Xilonen* - Azul, Namacuix's 2nd in Command.
*Tezuma* - Former Azul Captain, now A red.
*Ocelotl* - Verdant, Captain
*Tonuauc* - Puran, Lord of the Sun and Master of the Sacrifice
*Yingarna* - Puran, Lord of the Moon and Master of the Blood
*Vladren* - Rosian, Admiral of the Fleet
*Autemoc* - Azul, Vladren's 2nd
*Heimdallr* - Verdant, Master of the incoming wave
*Monvath* - Amaril, Lord of the Amarils and keeper of the Lore
*Asvelon* - Amaril, Monvath's 2nd
*Forex* - Anaran, Master of the Forge.

*The Maniacal Brethren of the Emperor's Cleavers*

*Krom* - High Blade Lord and Chapter Commander
*Brothgaar* - High Fist
*Gorath* - Fist
*Joruus* - Claw
*Gorax* - Claw
*Fromaar* - Claw
*Cobaal* - Talon

*The Bonecaster* - Mysterious Lord of the Chapter

*Those members of the Non-Astartes civillianry and PDF*

*Ictlan* - Namacuix's flesh brother and Majordomo
*Arken Phlebas* - Lord Governor of Soliban Prime
*Maken Totav* - Acting PDF Commander
*Oren Pilonious* - High Judge and Lord Marshal of the Arbites

*Those members of His Majesty's Imperial Inquisition*

*Lady Cotillion* - Inquisitor in charge of pacification of Soliban
*Orinir* - Her Interrogator
*Fero Jax* - Captain of the Inquisition Stormtroopers


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

INQUISITORIAL INTELLIGENCE CONTAINED WITHIN
RESTRICTED CLEARANCE
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY *

*CLASSIFICATION:* Tertiary Level Intelligence
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 3.3
*DATE:* 338.M41
*AUTHOR:* Gabriel Vaun, Inquisitor Ordo Hereticus
*SUBJECT:* The Intelligence you requested
*RECIPIENT:* Dashiel Primus Lotan, Lord Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus Headquarters Segmentum Tempestus

Concerning the Rainbow Warriors,

My Most Gracious Lord,

Please find enclosed the Intelligence briefing you requested regarding the aforementioned Chapter.

ASTARTES CHAPTER DESIGNATION - 

[HG] - Proeliator Pluvium 
[LG] - The Rainbow Warriors

HERITAGE - Successor of the Blood Angels Chapter, Unknown Founding

EST. HOMEWORLD - Conflicting reports find them with two distinct homeworlds 
i) Prism 
ii) Tonaltzinthi III

CURRENT NUMBERS - Between 550 and 600 Full Brothers, Unknown Scout and Neophyte Numbers

GENESEED TITHE QUOTA - Completed Regularly, Adeptus Majoris Gravan reports no anomalies.

RECENT HISTORY - Absolutely nothing of note, without a more aggressive investigation, it is impossible to research.

CURRENT WHEREABOUTS - Unknown, though there are rumours of an engagement on a frontier world known as Void's Edge

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Lord I respectfully request that in the future you do not burden me with such thankless tasks, I find them to be a waste of time and valuable resources, they deprive important theatres of my agents, theatres where their presence and constant vigil is required.

The Astartes are a law unto themselves, they defy all attempts at control. Perhaps this role would be better suited to one of your more experienced Inquisitors in the future. Though why you wish to gather such intelligence is beyond me.

Once more I beg forgiveness for my Bluntness.

My Loyalty remains to you and the Golden Throne, 

Gabriel Vaun.

+Thought for the Day - Taint is a cancer, sometimes it is prudent to remove a healthy organ to prevent its spread.+




*Rainbow Warriors*


She watched from her hiding place as more and more of the bodies pressed against the giant form, its bulky blue armour like a sea wall holding fast against a breaking tide. She eyed its vast form admiring the ceremonial armour it bore, which seemed to have some form of simplistic dragon totem detailed upon its every surface, while long ceremonial feathers protruded from various parts of its torso. The helm upon its head was shaped in the form of a glorious raptor, its ruby eyes surveying those around it with disdain. 

Naked, its assailants rubbed and butted themselves against its still form, deriving pleasure from every touch. Several had ornamental knives with which they curiously stabbed at the statuesque form, seemingly trying to wound it, these attacks seemed almost laughable and invariably they ended up wounding each other more than they managed to even scratch the surface of their intended target. 

Finally, it seemed that the giant had reached the limit of its tolerance. It moved one arm up striking several of the writhing forms and knocking them to the floor, where they lay writhing in ecstasy. 

It then spun and charged backwards crashing into the timber frame of the wall behind it, crushing several of those who cavorted on its back. Finally it drew some kind of sword from its scabbard and began to dispatch the rest of those that surrounded it, laying into piles of bodies with each downward swipe of its blade until only one remained.

This sobbing creature backed away from the blood soaked behemoth before it. 
Pleading for its life it raised one hand beckoning for the statue to stop its bloodshed. The fool’s pleas fell on deaf ears and she winced as it the statue strolled forward, watching mesmerised as the huge figure stomped down on the face of its victim crushing the head into a pulped mess.

The huge form circled slowly, scanning the room for more targets as a second of its kind entered from the doorway to its left. 

Finally the child moved forward, stopping only to rub a large cist on her back which caused a sickly sweet smell to fill the air around her, she stepped out into the light knowing it was time for to speak her part. 



Bifrost stomped down hard, killing the last cultist, grinning in satisfaction as he heard the crunch of the skull being ground into the solid wooden floor. 

He looked up to see Acatlotzin standing in the doorway to his left, his terminator-armoured form was as blood drenched as his own.

“The more we defend humanity, the more I’m finding it has the capacity to surprise and disgust me.” He hissed as his second in command entered the room. 

There was a shuffling noise behind him and he spun raising his storm bolter, grimacing as he noticed the body fluids still dripping from the barrel. 

Acatlotzin appeared to his left, his weapon raised in a mirror image of his Lord, they both eyed the young female cub standing before them with suspicion, a sweet smell filling the air around her, before Bifrost activated his external vox. 

“Imperial citizen you are impeding an astartes investigation, return to your parents and forget what you have seen here.” He fought hard to keep the contempt from his voice. Dealing with children was not something that the old warrior had much experience with. 

The child tilted her head to the side and offered the sign of the Aquila. “Noble warriors of the Astartes, I think that you mistake me for a simple citizen, I am not. I am a member of the God Emperor’s most blessed Ecclesiarchy.”

Bifrost turned to Acatlotzin and activated his internal vox. “Were you aware of any representatives of His Church being sent to check on us?” 

The other warrior shook his head in reply. 

Bifrost turned back to the she cub. “We were not made aware that any members of the Imperial church were to be sent to converse with us. What do you want?”

The young girl seemed to take his questions in her stride, stepping gingerly over a puddle of blood and mashed limbs, showing no obvious discomfort at the sight.

“His Holiness sent me to ensure that the matter you were brought here for was concluded in a suitable manner. He wished to ensure that all remaining taint of this Emperor damned cult were wiped from existence.” 

Bifrost nodded taking in her words; he found them strange coming from so young a she-cub. The scent that emanated from her filled his nostrils, though his helmets olfactors had dampened it considerably, it was still pungent. He wrinkled his nose, trying to dismiss the disruptive smell.

“Then you have your answer, the cult is no more. All of the remaining members have been purged by my command team.” 

The she cub nodded. “My Lord will be pleased you have his thanks-“ 

Suddenly she stopped, sniffing the air, then turned, a slight hissing sound issuing from her lips as another armoured form entered through the front door of the building. This one was smaller and less compact than the two behind her, it eyed her warily.

Bifrost reacted first, raising his bolter in the direction of the new comer. “What is the meaning of this?”

The figure stepped forward into the light; it wore similar armour to Bifrost, though it was indeed of a different, smaller form. Bifrost growled as he recognised the warrior before him. 

“Namacuix? What in the Emperor’s name are you doing here?” He called, anger clear in his voice. 

The warrior stepped forward, saluting his Lord by punching his fist to his chest. In his other hand he held his helmet, his bare face was open and honest, the vertical, multicoloured stripe that ran from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his neck where it met the collar of his armour was vibrant and fresh as though he had just come from one of Tonauac’s ceremonies. The small service studs that pierced his skull were matched by the elongated piercings that covered his ears, like all of their Chapter such ornamentation was a proud part of their heritage. 

“My Lord, you must not listen to this She-cub it reeks of deception, it has been sent to lull you into a false sense of security.”

Bifrost returned his sword to his scabbard then raised his hand to silence the other warrior. 

By now the small child was becoming agitated, unable to hear their discourse it could tell that something was wrong. 

“My Lord Captain Commander Bifrost, if you will remain here, I will send for his Holiness-“

Namacuix silenced her by lashing out with a swift kick, his armoured boot catching the small child and throwing its now lifeless corpse across the room, its face and upper chest a bloody ruin. 

Bifrost brought his bolter to bear once more, his shock apparent at the act of one of his marines killing a She-cub, a child of the Ecclesiarchy no less. 

“What madness is this? Have you lost your mind?” He growled at the younger warrior. 

Namacuix ignored him, striding forward to lift the still twitching corpse, he raised it before his Lord, displaying the strange Cist upon its back, which even now was still secreting pheromones. 

“This cub is a known as scent child. It was sent by a secondary cult to stall you. The pheromones it secretes, were designed to confound you and act as a beacon to its masters.”

Bifrost removed his helmet to get a closer look. “Scent child? Secondary Cult? 
Explain this madness, and while your at it you can tell me what the Captain of my Third Company is even doing here? When I distinctly remember sending him on a vital mission protecting a ministorum fleet from reavers two systems away!”

“The Azuls still follow your command my Lord, I am here with the second Company. The Amarils of the Librarium received intelligence of a second cult just after you left to oversee this mission; they sent word to me before my company departed. I thought it prudent that I myself take command and warn you.” 

He threw the corpse to the ground and torched its remains with his hand flamer, before continuing with his explanation.

“The night breeders of the Great Maw have infiltrated this planet. It was they who posed as the Ecclesiarchy to get you here; they wished to use you to remove the only remaining thorn in their side, the Pleasure cult. This was in order for them to then seize control of the planet. Even now they move to do so, this town will fall first, as the first borns come to confront you and tear any resistance asunder.”

Bifrost eyed Namacuix, unsure how to take his words. 

“Please my Lord, you must go back to the skybridge you cannot risk our entire command team. Activate your locaters, a squad from the fifth company await even now to teleport you out.”

Bifrost cursed loudly. “I will not run from a fight! Especially not from the accursed Genestealers!”

“And yet run you must my Lord, for I have unleashed the Reds.” Namacuix responded staring at him, the desperation plain in his voice. Acatlotzin inhaled sharply and Bifrost grabbed Namacuix’ arm. 

“You did what? You truly have lost your mind! Who gave you the right to order such measures?” He hissed, anger clear in his voice.

“There was nothing else we could do my Lord, it was the only option.” Namacuix replied calmly.

Bifrost nodded. “You have not heard the last of this Boy.” 

Shaking his head the old Lord punched a button on his gauntlet as Acatlotzin followed suit. The Old Lord then spoke into his helm comm.

“This is Bifrost, the command team is pulling out, activate your locaters.” He then turned back to Namacuix.

“Clean this mess up, or do not return to us.” Namacuix nodded at his solemn words. 

The first screams and sounds of fighting began as the command team disappeared in a blaze of light, Namacuix shielded his eyes as his Lord dematerialised, his glaring eyes the last thing Namacuix saw, as he was teleported back to the fortress monastery. 




Namacuix turned sharply and lifted his gauntlet; he eyed the chronometer on his wrist armour then walked smartly out of the wooden building. He crossed the small dusty square of the frontier town, trying not to see the armoured forms that feasted upon the flesh of the still living towns people, armoured forms who bore the same livery as he did. He kept his eyes focused in the small Imperial chapel in front of him. Wondering how it had survived sandwiched as it was between two of the Imperium’s most reviled enemies. 

Stepping smartly he cleared the small wooden steps leading up to the promenade and entered the small church, silencing his ears to the pleas of the dying citizens who screamed for his help. 

Moving forward, he strolled between the tow rows of pews, carrying on until he came to the small altar, a basalt relief of the Emperor in his war form, pointing its marble blade to the heavens, showing humanity its birthright. 

He knelt before it. Wishing for his sins this day, to be washed away by the radiance of the Tlacelel, the greatest of the warrior kings, the God Emperor of humanity. 

Namacuix raised his head, a small tear running down his tanned and flawless cheek. Emotion was something that administrations of his Chapter’s Apothecarium was supposed to have burned out of him but here and now, where the screams of the innocent mingled, with the cries of the guilty, Namacuix felt the sorrow sweep through him. 

Sorrow for his chapter and the innocents they have cursed this day but mostly sorrow for his brothers, the ones who would carry out the slaughter, those who would drink the blood of the innocent and turn themselves unwillingly from the God Emperor’s light. He raised his head and roared at the heavens, cursing the taint that blighted his chapter. 

As he finished his lament, he reached down and gripped the pommel of his power sword, something had entered the small chapel behind him. He did not turn to view it, instead he merely waited. Perhaps it would be better to die here in the Emperor’s place than return to the hell that forged him. He bowed his head and awaited his fate. 

The decision was taken from him as the stained glass window behind him burst inward and a bolt of blue crashed into the creature slamming it forward and out of the opposite window. 

Namacuix looked up and saw the Emperor looking down on him. No, he would not die this day. He rose to his feet and moved away from the altar, bowing to the statue as he did so. 

He turned and made his way to the small entrance, turning once more to salute the altar as he turned to leave. 

Outside he was greeted by a scene of absolute carnage, his brothers had torn through the township and in a matter of what could only be minutes they had destroyed it utterly, dying towns folk lay everywhere, their dwellings destroyed and ravaged with fire. Here and there, several of the night breeders cult still fought but they were quickly overwhelmed, even their first borns could do little against his cursed brothers. 

Namacuix stared straight ahead as out of the corner of his eye he noticed the forms of several of the Red tide turn from their dying victims to view him. With a chorus of grunts and hisses several of them started to move towards him.

Namacuix did not move, standing stock still, he made no move to retreat in the face of such overwhelming odds; instead he began to utter loudly a prayer to the Emperor, begging his forgiveness for the spilled blood of the innocents that now covered his chapter. 

On and on they came, more of them joining the tide as they rushed towards him, closer and closer they came and still Namacuix did nothing. 

They were almost upon him, when the chronometer at his wrist chimed. He quietly thanked the Emperor. 

Suddenly all around him, almost simultaneously, his cursed brothers dropped to the dust unconscious. 

Namacuix nodded and activated his helm comm.

“The mission was a success, thank the Emperor. I need clean up squads Jaguar and Hawk, flamer units will be required. Oh and thank the Purans once more for their gifts of the omnissiah, without them I would surely be counted among the dead. Namacuix 
out.”


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## Mossy Toes

Ah, you did register for this forum! I suppose that I'll have to reward you by reading and reviewing this story, then... :wink:


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## waltzmelancholy_07

An outstanding piece... It's been a while since I have read a story that was worth my time.... REP:victory:!....


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## the_unchanged

Mossy - you mean you haven't read my stuff already? Im disappointed  :grin: 

Waltz - Thanks for the praise! I hope you'll keep reading as this is only the beginning. :good:


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## the_unchanged

*part 2*

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

INQUISITORIAL INTELLIGENCE CONTAINED WITHIN
RESTRICTED CLEARANCE
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY*

*CLASSIFICATION:* Tertiary Level communique
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 3.3
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Dashiel Lotan, Inquisitor Lord Ordo Hereticus
*SUBJECT:* Request - Permission Granted
*RECIPIENT:* Arken Phlebas, Lord Governor, Soliban Prime, Sector Capital, Garras Sector.

Lord Governor,

I have considered your request and taken time to research the solutions to your problems and I concur with your findings, furthermore the Intelligence I have gathered, though limited, shows no sign of taint. 

This intelligence is incomplete however and as I now grant you this boon, you will in turn do me a favour . I will expect a complete report on the actions of the Rainbow Warriors, you will observe them at every opportunity and report everything you see. 

Do not let me find you lacking in this task, my patience is wearing thin. Should your latest Gambit fail I shall intercede on your behalf, this will not be in your best interest. 

Suffer not the heretic to live, cast your faith no further than the Lord of Man kind.

Dashiel Lotan.

_____________________________________________



*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA*

*Purge after Reading *

*CLASSIFICATION:* Primary Level Communique
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian Ultra
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 6.6
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Operative codename - The Player
*SUBJECT:* Bishop will move to take knight
*RECIPIENT:* Operative codename - Bishop

Bishop, 

The King requests the aid of the Knight, the Bishop will move to ensure this is made possible. 

The Knight sits upon a usurped throne, further evidence of his broken sword? 

The Knight must move, only under the watch of Bishop can he be controlled.

Do not fail me,

The player.

________________________________________





*Part 2*


Namacuix strode along the corridors of the skybridge, as he had done a thousand 
times before. He ran his free hand along its walls, feeling the heartbeat-like thrum of the ship reverberate through his gauntlet. He smiled as it welcomed home in its own way, another mission successfully completed, another day he lived to fight for the Emperor. 

His mood darkened once more at the fact, that every cluster of his brothers that he passed were gathered in small groups of their own companies, none daring to mix with another group for fear of reprisal from their own, suspicious looks cast all around. He nodded in respect as he spotted a group of Purans discussing a fine piece of weaponry that one held within his arms, their mech-arms seemingly interacting in the air above them. They saluted in response before returning to their discussion.

A few metres later a pair of Amarils strode across the intersection ahead of him, Namacuix felt the hairs on his body raise as they passed, whatever psychic dialogue they were engaged in charging the air around them. They both turned as one, as they noticed him and saluted simultaneously, mirror images of each other, their glowing eyes regarding him dispassionately. He returned the salute as they moved off, sighing at how aloof his librarian brothers had become.

Finally he reached his own chambers, stopping as he always did to kiss the wall beside the entrance portal, the ritual something he did at the return of every battle, a personal reminder that he was alive to see his sanctum. It was just many of such rituals that he engaged in and the simplicity of it always centred him and kept him focused. 

He hit the entrance stud and the portal cog rolled to one side to allow him entry. As it slid away he found Ictlan, his major-domo awaiting him. Though Namacuix towered over the much smaller form of the serf, the respect he felt for the old man was only slightly below the Emperor himself. 

Kneeling, head bowed, he lifted the specimen jar he held and offered it to the figure before him. “Little Brother, I bring you a trophy for your collection.” 

Ictlan grinned, taking the jar from him. “I really wish you’d cease with such dramatics, an astartes should never bow before a chapter serf, not even if they happen to be said astartes kin.”

Namacuix grinned, rising to his feet. “Not even if they are the reason he’s an astartes in the first place?” 

He gripped the old man’s offered arm in the old warrior’s salute. 

Ictlan laughed. “Such foolishness from a Captain of the 2nd company! You are the reason you are an astartes, not me.”

Namacuix moved passed the old man, placing his helmet upon the small unadorned desk that was pushed against one wall of his room. 

“That’s nonsense and you know it little brother, had you not taken that poison dart to the leg, to prevent me from being killed, you would have completed the task and it would be you standing in my place as captain of the 2nd Company.” He growled.

Ictlan turned to look the bigger man in the eye. “Had I done so I would have lost my brother, and no sacrifice was worth seeing that happen. No, I do not for a second regret what I did that day and neither should you.” 

Namacuix turned away from his brother, the shame of what had transpired that day still stuck in his throat. The trials of the aspirant were forever burned in his memory, the shame of falling at the final hurdle, the Rainbow Warriors watching from the sides as his brother raced ahead, stopping before the finish line as he realised Namacuix was not with him. His younger brother had returned to help him, throwing himself before one of the course projectiles to prevent it striking Namacuix’s throat. 

Ictlan had urged him to his feet and sent him towards the finish line, so that both of them would not fail. The sacrifice that his brother had made in his name that day had honoured him beyond anything he could conceive and as such had determined the warrior he would become, striving always to ensure his brother’s sacrifice had not been in vain, for he loved his brother dearly. As he had risen through the ranks he had requested his brother to be his major-domo and the ever-humble Ictlan had agreed.

“Now, enough of this foolishness, tell me what happened planet side, the tales you bring me are something I look forward to,” He held the trophy up before him, ”and the trophies of course! What have we here anyway?” he said, eyeing it carefully. 

“The head of a night breeder Brood lord, ex-sanguinated of course.” He replied as he removed his weapons placing them in their holders with delicate care, silently wording a prayer to the Emperor as he did so, another of his many rituals.

Ictlan grinned manically. “A Brood lord? This will sit nicely beside the Oruken Warlord and the reaver eldar’s helmet. A battle with a brood lord, this will be a tale to beat all others I think.” The old man limped off towards his own chamber, an annexe to the bigger chambers of his Lord. 

“And a Gene-Magus, captured alive no less.” Namacuix called after him as the older man disappeared into the next room. 

“Most Excellent.” The Old man called back. “I look forward to hearing it. Perhaps a cup of O-cha to calm the nerves after such a titanic struggle?”

Namacuix grinned at his brother’s eccentricity. “I do not suffer from nerves but I will accept your offer anyway.” The darkness of his earlier mood was lifted as the joy of simple discourse with Ictlan reminded him of the joys of living.

He decided he would go and see Tonauac later and purge his dark thoughts by confessing his fears to the Old Chaplain, then pray with him for the souls of his brothers who had succumbed to the red tide, those he had used in such a dark manner on the planet below them.

“Ah the fabled Astartes constitution, what must it be like it never feel fear?” 

Namacuix grinned once more as the old man rambled on regarding his notions on the answers to such a question. Secretly though it was something he felt uncomfortable discussing, his brother was a link to his humanity, one that he never hoped to lose and when the conversation turned to such notions he always tried to avoid it, it only served to remind him of the differences between them. It was not that he found humanity frail because of their ability to feel fear, far from it, he had seen countless times the warriors of the Imperial Guard face such fear before conquering it and it had only made him respect them even more. It had everything though, to do with not being reminded of his post humanity, something that had given him so much yet also taken so much away. 

“How can you not feel fear, facing monsters such as a brood lord? “ The old man asked re-entering the room carrying a tray, upon which sat a simple clay urn and two clay cups. 

“Perhaps its something to do with being a genetically engineered killer and having the finest weapons available to mankind. I’m not sure but sometimes these things help.” Ictlan laughed constantly surprised to hear such crude jokes coming from an astartes captain. 

He caught a glimmer of sadness in his brother’s eyes and his face turned grim, in that instant he knew there was something more important that Namacuix wished to discuss. 

Namacuix caught the look on his brother’s face and nodded “Bifrost.” 

It was all he needed to say; Ictlan knew exactly what it meant. 

“He will not listen.” He said quietly.

“No, he will not.” Replied Namacuix. “The Old fool is driving this chapter to ruin, even though the madness of the red tide floods the edges of his mind, his iron-will will not allow it to consume him but the madness remains. He seeks glory and races off at every opportunity to embrace it. He cares only for the first Company and does not see the division that riddles our chapter.”

Ictlan nodded. “It gets worse every day, though they pay me no attention I see the way they look at each other, your brothers move only in groups of their own colour, none mingle. Only the Azuls still move freely and that is mostly down to you. This madness must stop.”

Namacuix stared at the floor, his head bowed in thought. “The Amarills become more and more secluded as time goes on. Their gifts turn more and more from war and instead to the seeking of knowledge and enlightenment. It is an effort for me to even keep the Librarians I have without requesting the help I need from them. It is too much.”

Ictlan listened intently as he poured O-cha into the clay cups, offering one to Namacuix.

“The Anarans barely leave the Chaplaincy anymore, the blood ritual is all they care about, Tonauac barely keeps them in check and he is barely stable himself. They need the structure and order of the chapter to keep them from falling into madness.” 

He paused briefly shaking his head, before drinking deeply from his cup. 

“Only the Anarans and Verdants are keeping the chapter going and they too are slipping into the old ways. The thing that worries me most is that the Red Tide sweeps more of our brothers up every year carrying them forth into madness, while we can do nothing to stop it. The armed camps that now exist will blow up in our faces if Bifrost does not do something and soon.”

Ictlan looked up from the rim of his cup. “Perhaps it is time.”

Namacuix’s brow furrowed. “Time for what.”

“For new leadership.”

“No I will not betray my chapter not even for the good of its health.”

“You would have the support of the 2nd and the others would surely follow you, Tonuauc would see to that, the Old chaplain sees you as a shining example of our chapter, he would follow you through the Cadian gate and into the gates of hell if you but asked.” 

Namacuix shook his head once more. “It’s not that.”

“The prismiites? Surely they would not side with Bifrost simply because he is one of theirs?”

“No, they would not. A great many of them make up even my own chapter, as a great many of us make up the 1st, the old divisions are gone, they would not come to play.” 

He looked up and stared his brother straight in the eyes. “I cannot…will not betray the chapter, it is not in my blood.”

Ictlan nodded. “I am of your Blood, would you choose me over your chapter.”

Namacuix looked shocked. “I cannot answer that, I cannot even think of betraying my chapter it, my mind cannot even fathom it. To be given that choice, to have to make that decision-“

He stopped as he noticed the smile on his brother’s face. “Then it is a good thing you will never have to make that choice.”

The sound of Namacuix laughing was interrupted by the sound of the portal chime. 

“Enter.” He called out, as both he and Ictlan rose to their feet. 

They both saluted as Namacuix’s second in command Borlung entered the chamber; stopping before them he returned the gesture. 

“My Lord, I bring grave tidings. The Lord Captain and the men of the Rosians have returned to the surface-“

“What!?” Namacuix roared, cutting his brother off. “What the hell is he up to now. Borlung gather the command squad, I wish to know what the hell is going on.” Borlung nodded and headed off.

Namacuix turned once more to his major-domo. 

Ictlan nodded at him, knowing what he must do. “The plot thickens, perhaps you should put more thought into what we discussed.”

Namacuix shook his head sadly, as he lifted his weapons. “Perhaps the old fool will force my hand after all.”

~~~~~

Several hours later found Namacuix and his men striding along the gilded corridors of the Imperial palace of the Void’s Edge governor. From the look of the place it was obvious to see where all of the world’s riches went, huge marble pillars standing in contrast to the gold filigree all around. 

The Captain grimaced as he noticed large groups of unarmed PDF troopers being herded by his brothers of the First Company. None of the veterans saluted as he passed and Namacuix gritted his teeth at the slight. Finally, he reached the grand chamber and two of Bifrost’s men moved to intercept them, barring their path.

“Move aside.” He roared as he and his men shouldered passed them, daring them to draw weapons. Borlung growled as he eyed one of them, the young warrior eager to defend his captain’s honour. 

Namacuix hoped it would not come to blows, the majority of his company were half a sub-sector away and he would need their numbers if worse came to worse. 

He swept onwards into the grand chamber, his cloak fluttering with the motion, his helmet held in the crux of his left arm, while the hand of his right gripped his sword’s pommel tightly. 

He stared agog as he noticed the bulky form of the Chapter Commander sitting upon the raised throne of the Governors office, arrayed before him were a squad of 1st company veterans, their weapons aimed at the governor and nineteen of his retinue. The planets hierarchy kneeled before their captors, all with terrified looks upon their face, several of them where whimpering as their bowels loosened, soiling the floor around them. Only the Governor stared ahead defiantly, though his courage seemed somewhat tested by the fact that his entire face was almost covered by the barrel opening of the boltgun held in front of his face. 

“My Lord! What is the meaning of this?” He cried, pointing at the Governor. 

Bifrost grinned maniacally. “These fools have failed their world and the master of mankind, they are not fit to lead.” He raised his fist and smashed it against the arm of the throne. “We shall rule in their stead, restoring order in the Emperor’s name.”

“I must remind you my Lord, but we do not have the power to do such a thing without Terran consent. We cannot allow any more of their attention to be focussed upon us, as it is we are lucky not to have been investigated. This, “ He said, pointing once more at the governor’s retinue, “this will be a step to far, they will come down upon us like the Hounds of Mictlan themselves!”

“It is my decision to make.” Bifrost replied, his grin spreading wider, like a child who knows he is doing wrong in the face of his parents but carries on anyway, “This world belongs to us now.” 

He closed his fist and the sounds of ten Bolters barking twice, rung out across the chamber. 

Namacuix gripped his weapon and was on the cusp of drawing it but stopped as he saw his men waiting for his command. Instead he pointed up at the Chapter Commander. “You go too far my Lord, I pray to the Emperor that, for your sake, this does not destroy us.”

He gripped his cloak and turned away, marching smartly off as his men followed in his wake, the sound of Bifrost’s laughter followed them out, taunting them.


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 3*

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA*

*Purge after Reading *

*CLASSIFICATION:* Primary Level Communique
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian Ultra
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 6.6
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Operative codename - Bishop
*SUBJECT:* Bishop will move to take knight 
*RECIPIENT:* Operative codename - The Player

The Player, 

The Bishop moves now to fulfill the Player's request. 

Should Broken sword indeed be revealed, will Bishop move to take knight?

Control will be maintained at all costs.

I will not fail,

Bishop







*Part 3 *


Namacuix walked along the silent corridor, the ringing of his boots on the metal grille almost as loud in his ears as the beating of his twin hearts. He pulled the cowl that covered his face tighter and upped his pace until finally his goal was in sight. 

The Green insignia of the Apothecarion filled his vision, emblazoned as it was upon the portal entrance to the medicae bay. Reaching forward he pressed the entrance stud, hearing the soulful chime, he awaited someone to acknowledge his presence. 

Finally, after a few minutes the portal’s cog like barrier rolled to one side, inviting him forward, confusion flashed across his features as he realised no one was there to greet him. He stepped forward anyway entering the bay, scanning his surroundings as he searched for the presence of any of his brothers. 

Finding no one, he carried on walking past the various groups of cogitator banks and into the bay wards. A sudden thought came upon him and he walked on through into a vast cavern like facility that served as the home to the chapter’s secret shame. 

He stopped unsure whether to continue but did so anyway, walking passed the huge tank vats, he kept his eyes on the narrow gang-way, avoiding looking at the contents of the vats. 

He reached an intersection and stopped, turning to his left, he knelt before one of the only vats he had visited before. He looked up and took in the form floating within the tank. He placed his closed fist to his mouth as though in contemplation. 

“It’s been a long time Brother Captain,” he whispered, eyeing the brass plaque that identified the marine who inhabited the tank. 

“I have missed your guidance, Tezuma.”

He looked up at the patriarchal features of the tank’s inhabitant then closed his eyes and thought back to the first time he had met the Brother Captain. 

_“Your Brother will survive his wounds young Nama, you must not allow his sacrifice to be in vain. Come it is time for us to leave.” Tezuma’s mighty hand had reached down filling his tear soaked vision, Namacuix placed his own much smaller hand upon it. 

He had winced when the Astartes had closed his hand, thinking it would crush his own, however, there was little pressure in the surprisingly delicate grip. 

“Do not fear your destiny boy, for all those who would aspire to be Warriors of the sky bridge must embrace it.” He had said as he led the young boy away. 

Namacuix had only nodded dumbly and allowed himself to be led, fighting back more tears as he realised he may never see his brother again. 

“When the Rainbow Warriors first arrived and linked our world with Prism, our people embraced them, as was only right. For the sky bridge allowed us to share our supplies with our twin world, providing us with the medicines that would save our people. Now as payment for the boon that was granted us by Tlacelel, father of men and his Rainbow Warriors, the greatest warriors of Tonal must follow them across the sky bridge and offer their strength to guard his realm.” Tezuma said, continuing his lecture, “In his benevolence he has chosen you to for this task, now I will ask you, are you up to the task?” 

Namacuix had listened fascinated by the tale of the sky bridge, though he had heard it many times before he had never heard it from one of the Warriors of the sky bridge themselves. 

“Well?” Asked Tezuma. It took Namacuix several seconds to realise that he had been asked a question. 

He squared his shoulders and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I am ready to cross the sky bridge and I will serve the father of men to the best of my ability, in honour of my brother.” 

Tezuma laughed then, the tension of the moment seemingly broken by the young warriors confident answer. Namacuix looked up confused by the astartes sudden change in demeanour. 

“My Lord?” He asked. 

Tezuma swept up his hand once more. “Come it would not to do to keep him waiting.” 

“Keep who waiting my Lord?” Said Namacuix, now more confused than ever. 

“Why,” Said Tezuma smiling, “your brother of course. Though he is not strong enough to become a Rainbow Warrior, he will join you on the Sky Bridge none the less.” 

Tears came freely once more as Namacuix ran forward to embrace the Old warriors leg, who laughed uproariously at the young child’s actions. _

“May Tlacelel grant you peace my Brother.” He whispered once more, smiling at the memory of the old Warrior. 

He placed his open palm on the surface of the tank and began to whisper a second prayer when the his former Captain’s eyes shot open. 

Namacuix rose to his feet, stumbling away from the tank, as Tezuma gritted his teeth and growled in frustration. The old warrior thrashed against the inside of the tank, the isolation fluid muffling the sound, giving it an eerie detached quality. 

“My Brother…..” He whispered, disbelieving of the enraged form that now consumed the old warrior. 

“Not anymore.” Said a voice behind him and Namacuix spun to see who had spoken. 

“Hiemdallr.” He said as he saw the old Apothecarion Lord standing before him.

The second marine nodded and strode passed Namacuix, keying a complex pattern of numbers into a keypad on the side of the tank.

The isolation fluid within took on a crimson tinge and Tezuma slipped once more into a deep sleep. 

“I’m sorry Lord Apothecary, I did not mean to disturb his rest.” He said, feeling shame at invading the old warrior’s inner sanctum.

“Nonsense lad, so few of us come now, that it seems we have forgotten our lost brethren. It does my heart proud to see that the captain of the Azuls is not guilty of such crimes.” 

Namacuix nodded sadly, eyeing the vats once more. “It seems that our brothers do not wish to face the darker side of their destiny.” 

“No, they do not, though it would appear that in the current climate that is the least of our chapters problems,” Hiemdallr moved away from the tanks, heading back to the wards, Namacuix followed in his wake. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such esteemed company? Is the old man finally granting my request?” The apothecary called over his shoulder.

“Request?” answered Namacuix. 

Hiemdallr stopped and turned to face Namacuix. “You mean you know nothing of my request?” 

“I’m sorry my Lord but on this matter I must plead ignorance, the Lord Captain Commander and I have not seen eye to eye of late.”

“Ah, I had heard about that, terrible business, however sometimes we must follow where our Lord leads us, even be they dark paths, that we would not have chosen ourselves.” 

Namacuix smiled. “Listen to you Hiemdallr, I have been a full astartes for almost two and a half centuries, I have been Captain of the second for almost a third of that time and here you are still lecturing me like I’m some child aspirant.” 

Hiemdallr did not see the humour in the situation. “I will always be your senior lad , remember it was I who made you what you are today.” 

Namacuix bowed his head to hide his smile.” I meant no disrespect, my old friend, please forgive me.”

The apothecary nodded sagely, a smile passing across his own face. “None taken, now about my request, I have almost ninety neophytes who are ready for induction into the scouts of verdant. They need to face some action and soon, their aggression needs to be vented, I cannot allow it to fester.” 

Namacuix nodded. “I will personally authorise, their induction and as for action, as soon as something arises then they will be given their opportunity.”

The apothecary offered his arm in salute. “Thank you, lad. Now how can I help you?” 

Namacuix sighed. “I came here to speak with you because I wanted to know the feelings of the Verdant.” 

The apothecary who was in the middle of typing something into a cogitator bank stopped what he was doing. “Feelings?”

“Feelings,” He re iterated, nodding as he did so. “How are Verdant’s relations with the others?” Hiemdallr did not need to ask to know what he was referring to.

“Cordial,” he replied, “at best.”

Namacuix shook his head.

“The Verdant will always maintain links with the other companies but of late their wild demands have put a strain on that relationship. They clamour for fresh recruits as more and more of them fall to the red tide.” 

The old Apothecary stood up, handing Namacuix a data slate. 

“That details all the requests we have received in the past quarter, their demands far outweigh what we can provide. Several bitter arguments have erupted recently, right here in my own sanctum. Only the Anarans still listen, they understand our dilemma.”

Namacuix scanned the data slate, gritting his teeth as he saw the terse words displayed there, the sheer amount of requests was staggering.

“We do our best to placate everyone but I fear it will not be long before it comes to blows.” 

Namacuix grimaced as he realised his own company had taken the bulk of the scouts from the last drive, probably putting more strain on the Verdants to placate the others. 

“Keep me informed on this, I want to know every detail of every request, I want numbers and quotas and well anything you think will allow me to see the bigger picture, this Chapter must survive, despite its own leaders best intentions.” It showed the confidence that Hiemdallr shared with the Captain that he let that barb slide without reprieve, though it shocked the old man that Namacuix would openly say such things. 

“With regards to my company’s own demands, you may lessen our quota, I had not realised that you were maintaining it to the detriment of the others. No longer will I maintain that burden on you, I shall speak with the other Captains and alert them of the situation, I fully intend to lighten your load my Lord.” 

Hiemdallr seemed to brighten with every word. “I thank you once more Lad, this will help more than you know.”

“I must go now, Tonauac will not be pleased that I have kept him waiting. Keep up the good work and remember, keep me informed of all that transpires here!” He cried over his shoulder as he strode away, departing from the bay.


----------



## the_unchanged

Anyone other than me and Waltz reading this? :cray: :biggrin::biggrin:


----------



## Myen'Tal

I haven't yet, but I'll try catching up soon, looking pretty interesting from I can see thoughk:.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

If I could only rep you again... I would do so... Hahaha... Can't wait for the next upd8:victory::grin:...


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 4*

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

INQUISITORIAL INTELLIGENCE CONTAINED WITHIN
RESTRICTED CLEARANCE
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY 

CLASSIFICATION:* Tertiary Level Communique
*CLEARANCE: *Obsidian
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 3.3
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Arken Phlebas, Lord Governor, Soliban Prime
*SUBJECT:* Further reports regarding our most desperate of situations
*RECIPIENT:* Dashiel Primus Lotan, Lord Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus Headquarters Segmentum Tempestus

Lord Inquisitor,

I agree fully with your terms and thank you most graciously for your assistance, though I must beg of you that you move will all haste, the situation here is becoming more desperate. As requested I have forwarded on both the autopsy report you requested and the Vox logs of the survivor interrogation. 

I do not presume to make demands of you but the sooner the Noble Rainbow Warriors arrive to reinforce us the better, for I fear without their aid this planet will fall. 

As always my loyalty remains to the Throne. 

Arken Phlebas, Lord Governor.

~~~~~~~~~~

*Autopsy Report 

Date *:- Classified
*Subject *:- Classified
*Mortician*:- Biologis Magos Jenon.

*Magos code *- Beta Prime.

Each of the three corpses returned from the war zone showed startling degrees of degradation, their deaths almost certainly Violent in the extreme. 

The first corpse was little more than a skin sack, the internal organs completely pulped and in several instances entirely missing. Further investigation of the ‘corpse’ found little next to no signs of contamination or even mutation. 

The second corpse, itself not much better than the first was slightly more complete in the sense that its ‘battle wounds’ were a little less severe, its skeleton was almost completely whole and of course that it had a head. This fact is what enabled us to discover a slight aberration in the size of the Brain. In this case the brain had reduced in size by almost 40%. 

However I was unable to conclude how significant this fact was as the third corpse, though I now use that term lightly, became animated during the procedure; killing three of my adepts in the process. Though I am at a loss to explain this, as the wounds it had suffered should have killed it three times over. The PDF commander decided it was better that we burn the corpses and any further study be abandoned. 

Though I concur with his decision I have taken it upon myself to study the second corpse in greater, hopefully the aberration in brain size will perhaps provide an answer to this most pressing of problems. 

*+++++LOG terminated+++++*

*Vox recording file number:- *3119954
*Telepathic Duct:- *Astropath Terminus Juliens
*Ref:- *Prisoner interrogation Astor 452

*PDF Sergeant Vilas *- Tell us how it happened…..

*External source screams, scuffling commotion in the room. Fifty nine seconds later interrogation continues.*

*Prisoner* - P-please help me, the eyes…..the eyes….I can’t get them out of my head. 

*SV *- Ignore them and answer the question, then you will receive the help you require.

*Silence maintained for a further thirty nine seconds.

Prisoner whispers something vox fails to pick up on.

SV *- Please repeat that, louder this time so we can hear you.

*Prisoner whispers again, vox picks out only two words ‘Dead’ and ‘She’ 

Loud noise as SV kicks the table

SV *- Louder!

*P *- W-we didn’t know she was dead…..

*SV* - Who?

*P *- The old Woman….and then she….she began biting people, her eyes though, her eyes…. They tore at my soul….I…I…..

*Commotion as prisoner drops to the floor, suffering from some kind of fit. 

SV *- Damn it get a medic in here n…

*Transcript is lost as SV begins to scream.

SV* - Damn it I’ve been bit, the frakker bit me. What the hell are you fools doing? Im not the threat!

*Transmission terminates to the sound of several Hellguns being fired. *

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

Purge after Reading *

*CLASSIFICATION:* Primary Level Communique
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian Ultra
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 6.6
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Operative codename - The Player
*SUBJECT:* Bishop will initiate Gambit
*RECIPIENT:* Operative codename - Bishop

Bishop,

Initiate Gambit, destination Priism. 

Knight will move to support King. 

Should Knight turn in his loyalty, Secondary Gambit Red Hunter will be engaged. 

Do your best to prevent Secondary Gambit becoming necessary,

Player.








Namacuix walked slowly along the darkened corridor, unsure as to whether Tonauac would be awaiting him. He sincerely hoped the Old warrior would not be angered by his tardiness, the discussion with Heimdallr had taken longer than he expected, for the items the apothecary had divulged had given him much to chew on. Now he could only wait to see what other surprises a similar talk with Tonauac would reveal. Truly he had not expected to return to find the Skybridge enmeshed in such a disturbing state.

His normaly self confident bearing began to ebb, only to be replaced by confusion as he realised something was not right within the halls of the Purans. The normally bustling chaplaincy barracks were unusually quiet and a familiar aroma filled the air. This smell could only signify one thing. 

The Captain snarled in anger as he strode through the mist filling the air around him, he recognised the incense of the blooding ritual instantly, having received the sacred blessing many times in his past. Though for once the pungent aroma was not welcome, as realisation hit home that being the current Commander of the Skybridge forces, he had neither given his consent nor had it requested for the ritual to be engaged. 

He gripped his fists tightly as he strode on through the smog shrouded hall, heading for the ritual chamber, surely Tonauac of all people, would not have gone behind his back. 

His suspicions were confirmed as he entered the main chamber to find a ten man squad of the Rosians kneeling in the centre of the vast room. Namacuix peered through the surrounding darkness to see the darkened forms of several Purans, each hidden behind their ceremonial skull helms, standing before bulky altars. Further study revealed the alien forms strewn across these altar blocks, their exposed chests pulled taught. Namacuix’s eyes shifted to the largest of the altars and the imposing figure who stood before it. 

Tonauac’s golden deathshead helm seemed to take Namacuix’s presence in, though the father chaplain displayed no signs of registering his presence. The yellowed skull returned its focus to the offering before it, drawing the dark pin pricks of light that lit its hollowed eye sockets, away from the Captain of the Third.

“You offered your physical body to the Emperor’s service to become one of his immortal warriors,“ the Chaplain’s booming voice filled the chamber, “and you were rewarded with acceptance, the challenge of this transformation was placed before you, the goal to shed the weakness of your mortal form and transcend your humanity to become a servant of the God Emperor. Yet you failed in this most holy of tasks, your weaknesses too great for you to ascend, your body now displayed here broken, your failings plain for all to see. Yet even in this, the moment of your greatest weakness you have chosen to offer yourself to others as an example; not in failing but in strength. The life blood that will flow forth from your sacrifice will be used to spurn your former brothers onwards.” The Chaplain hefted a large dagger above his head, the sharpness of the gilded blade glinting even in the darkness which surrounded it.

All around him the other Lords mirrored his movement and raised their own knives until all seven blades were held high and poised to strike. 

Namacuix inhaled deeply, feeling the powerful scent of the incense fill his nostrils, the heady brew stirring powerful emotions within him, the blooding ritual had this effect on all who would partake in it. He exhaled loudly feeling his aggression surge to the forefront of his mind once more, images of past battles flashing through his mind calling to him, singing a song of battle lust directly to his soul. 

“Accept the peace that this knowledge will bring you. Know that in failing you have gained a small measure of victory. Know that the Emperor will still accept your soul to his grand halls. Most of all know that, by willingly allowing your lifeblood to mingle with that of xenos kind, that you will overcome your failings just as the purity of your life blood purges the taint of xenos corruption.” 

Tonauac drove his blade into the chest of the aspirant, tearing the flesh and causing his victim to scream until his throat filled with his own viscosity changing the sound to a dying gurgle. All around the Master of sacrifices, a facsimile of the scene was played out as the other chaplains drove their own blades into the chests of the xenos before them. A cacophony of death screams filled the chamber, Namacuix drunk the noise in deeply, the piteous whines of dying xenos like a hymnal to the God- Emperor of man. His eyes fixed on the body of a Slann-Saurian as it thrashed like a gutted fish, its screeches filling the air, before quickly descending into an unnatural quiet as its life force was spent. Finally there was a couple of further screams from the others before the noise died down entirely leaving a deathly silence.

Namacuix felt his blood boil as Tonuauc lifted the still beating heart of his aspirant clear of its host. Holding the vibrant red organ before him, he began to chant calling to the favours of the God Emperor, holding the organ to face the huge tapestry that filled the roof above them, where the Emperor’s magestic form looked down upon them, his face split down the middle to display the twin visages of his Tonalian Sun god and Prismiite Moon God forms. 

Namacuix watched as his brothers of the Rosians seemed to slip into a darkened trance, their bodies spasming violently as the blood induced memories of battles overtook them. Several other figures now strode forward, most taking their place beside the rigid forms of the chaplains who even now stood displaying their grisly wares, while yet more forms moved to stand around the prone forms of the Rosians. 

Namacuix knew that the next few moments would be crucial, any of the Rosians displaying odd behaviour would be quickly subdued lest the red tide overcome them to create havoc within this most holy of chambers. The Captain of the Azuls bit down on his cheek, allowing blood to flow freely within his mouth and flashes of pain to ground him in the present, it would not do for him to slip into the battle trance here when a clear head was what he needed most. His iron will struggled to maintain his composure but it was no easy task. Lifting his head from facing the floor he once more took in the scene before him, picking out details and keeping himself centred as the edges of his vision swam with memories of battlegrounds long lying silent in the past. 

Tonauac turned around and holding the heart before him, squeezed its contents into a strange funnel shaped instrument held out to him by one of the many chapter serfs which served the Master of Sacrafices. Namacuix watched as a rainbow riot of colours began to pour down a long series of chutes which ran from each of the altars to the centre of the room. Each of these chutes met in the centre of the room converging to create a multicoloured river prevented from mingling by the walled lining of their individual passages. 

A single figure strode forward and Namacuix recognised Yingarna, the young Master of Ceremonies, his silver skull helm the dark mirror of Tonauac’s flashed in the darkness. Yingarna was the moon to Tonauac’s sun, each designed to represent the Emperor in his twin roles of Sun Warrior, Violence resplendent and Moon Lord, wise Leader. 

Namacuix watched as the Chaplain strode forward to dip a wide brush made from the hair of brothers lost in battle, into the bright red fluid in the biggest of the pots which even now continued to fill as the last of the dead aspirants blood flowed from him. Lifting the brush forward, he nodded and one of the Puran Templars who flanked him strode forward to clasp the head of the first Rosian between open palms. Yingarna then matched these movements before running the brush down the face of the warrior of the first, from the centre of his scalp all the way to line of his chin, down to where the base of his neck met the rim of his chest plate. Turning away once more, the Master of Ceremonies took a second smaller brush from a waiting serf and in turn dipped it into the second pot, this one holding the bright orange lifeblood of the Virindians, a race of bovine like xenos. Then, as before, he turned back to the Rosian and ran twin streaks of the life blood on each side of the first. 

Namacuix was transfixed by the simplicity of such a task, a simplicity that was not reflected in its meaning to the Chapter for the Red Blood of the aspirant reflected the purity of Mankind and it was displayed proudly upon the centre of a Rainbow Warriors face where it held fast against the myriad races arrayed against it. This simple display was designed to show the unflinching power of humankind.

Namacuix turned to face Tonauac knowing that now his part of the ceremony was over, perhaps he would have his chance to speak with him. The old chaplain’s eyes met his before the Chaplain turned away, his long cape flowing behind him as he and the other Lords of the Sacrifice left the chamber. Namacuix rose to his feet making the sign of the Aquila before placing his palm vertically to the centre of his face, in the traditional salute of the Rainbow warriors, then turned and followed in Tonauac’s wake. 


“What is the meaning of this? Who authorised a Blooding Ceremony and why wasn’t I consulted.” Namacuix demanded as he burst into the Old warrior’s audience chamber, disregarding the usual required entrance protocols as his anger continued to overtake him. Tonauac sighed loudly, refusing to turn and face the raging captain, removing his helm, the Old warrior placed it on the desk in front of him. 

“I did only as I was requested by the Master of this chapter, his men are apparently seeing quite a bit of action on planetside,” Namacuix arched his eyebrow at this and Tonauac realised this waas soething else the young Captain had not been told about, “apparently there is some resistance to the enforced regime change.“ Namacuix nodded motioning for him to continue. “It is of course my duty to ensure they are prepared. I had thought to tell you of this my Boy and had I thought for a moment that Bifrost would not have done so himself, I would have done. I now can only offer my sincerest apologies. That the Commander should slight the honour of the Captain of the Third, the current Master of the Skybridge no less and that I should compound such an insult further shames me fully. You have every right to be angry Namacuix and for that I will ignore your unforgivable breech of protocol, however you allow your anger to get the better of you and that I will not tolerate.” The Old warrior turned finally to face him, his features dark and as Namacuix took in the noble bearing of the ancient warrior, his face began to colour once more. 

“My apologies my Lord, for the second time in the past few days I have been scolded for acting like the young aspirant I once was.” Namacuix bowed his head to show his shame. 

Tonauac grinned, were his features not so strained and desiccated, Namacuix was sure this was meant to be a paternal smile, instead translated as a rictus grin, a parting of his fleshless lips to show altogether too much teeth. 

“It is I who should be shamed Namacuix. You are the Captain of the Azuls now, not the foolish novitiate I once had flogged for sneaking in to view one of my blooding ceremonies.” This time it was the Chaplain’s turn to bow his head. Namacuix positively beamed at the honour the old man had just bestowed on him. 

Tonauac grinned once more. “Though perhaps Heimdallr did not scold you enough.” 

Namacuix looked up sharply. “How did you know?” 

“There are only two astartes in the whole chapter who could command the kind of respect it would take to scold you and it could only be the Captain of the Verdants who would dare do so.” Tonauac lifted a small urn from his desk and began to pour a clear liquid into a clay cup. “Apart from myself of course.” 

He placed the cup to his lips and supped deeply from the draught. “Now, I cannot believe that you have the gift of the Amarils.” Namacuix raised an eyebrow as Tonauac continued. “You would have needed the gift of foresight, or perhaps an obscene amount of luck to have come to the chaplaincy purely to interrupt the blooding ceremony so I cannot believe that was your reason for seeking me.” 

Namacuix nodded in agreement. “I came to apologise for breaking our previously agreed meeting time.” 

Tonauac watched the Captain from behind the rim of his cup, knowing that there was more to it than a simple need to apologise. 

“I wish to discuss the current problems that plague our Chapter.” He continued matching the old man’s stare. 

Tonauac turned replacing the cup on the desk. “Ah, now we get to the rub.”

“As Captain of the Purans, you yourself must have seen what is happening, the isolation of the great companies, the degradation of the teachings of the Imperial Codex, the rising numbers of those succumbing to the red tide. I cannot ignore it any longer.” Namacuix spoke with a hard edge to his voice, allowing Tonauac to once again sense the iron resolve the boy possessed. 

“Nor would I expect you to my boy, these problems cannot be lain simply at the feet of the Commander either, something is rotten within the core of our foundations.” 

Namacuix sensed the Old warrior was trying to warn him of something but did not feel right to pursue it further, instead he allowed Tonauac to continue to lead the conversation. 

“Bifrost has failed in his duties two fold firstly he has severed his own leadership from the Chapter and secondly in sending you on countless quests away from the Skybridge he has robbed us of the one person who has the power to unite us once more.”

Namacuix blinked in confusion, surely his brother was exaggerating his belief in Namacuix’s abilities, though it was true he wished to expunge the cancer from the heart of his chapter, he had no intentions of stepping over his mark and trying to lead his Chapter, insurrection was as abhorrent to him as turning his face from the Emperor’s light. 

“The chapter has fragmented under the lack of leadership, there are those who work from within to undermine any attempt to reverse this.” 

Tonauac turned away once more, lifting his helm from the desk and placing it within a small cabinet upon the wall, touching his fingers to his lips he pressed them against the forehead portion of the helm and whispered a small prayer before closing the casing. 

Once more Namacuix felt that the Old man wished to say more but was stopping himself from going further, though the Captain of the Azuls felt unsettled by the underlining tone apparent in Tonauac’s casting suspicion on others of the chapter seemed below a brother of such stature.

Namacuix felt he was left with two choices; ask Tonauac straight out who he was referring to, or go back to the start and discover where this all started. He quickly decided he needed to look at the bigger picture. 

“How did this happen? When did our chapter slide so dangerously close to oblivion?” If Tonauac was surprised by the change in direction he showed no outward sign. 

“I cannot tell you when it began, or how. I can merely speculate on the causes; lack of leadership, the red tide-” Tonauac paused as Namacuix interrupted him.

“I know all of this already but what I do not understand is the paranoia and fractious natures that are now apparent within the great companies. I cannot walk from one part of the Skybridge to another without crossing armed squads of brothers, armed here on the Skybridge and against threat of what? Retribution from their own brothers? This ship is supposed to be the one place that our Chapter Brothers can be at ease with each other, instead they view each other with suspicion and distrust, so much so that I am surprised we have not had open conflict in the barracks.”

Tonauac sat down upon a chair, raising his hands to his face, he viewed his brother through steepled fingers. “It’s the rumours.”

“Rumours?” Queried Nama, his interest piqued. 

“Rumours that the red tide is contagious, that it spreads through contact.” 

Namacuix dropped into the chair facing Tonauac, his shoulders sagging as those words flowed through his mind. 

“That is beyond foolishness.” He was truly lost for words, how could his brothers fall for such stupidity.

Tonauac said nothing, he simply watched as Namacuix put everything together. 

“How could such idiocy have gripped this Chapter, why did you not stop it?” Tonauac knew the question was coming but was still surprised by the iciness of Namacuix’s words. 

“I tried but as I said, I have been undermined, even by those within my own company.” Namacuix shook his head sadly at the Old Man’s words. 

He thundered the desk in front of him with the base of his fist. “This ends now.” Namacuix rose to his feet, anger plain on his face. “I intend to return this chapter to its former glory and I’ll need your help in this endeavour. Do I have your support?” 

He offered his hand to the Chaplain in the warriors salute. Tonauac grinned before gripping the offered forearm. 

“Of course you have my support. There are none more deserving of it than you.” 

Namacuix nodded, proud that this most respected of chapter brothers would show such faith in him. 

“Good, then I shall begin by tearing down the walls that our brothers have built amongst themselves. It is time this Chapter became whole once more.” 

Finally the young captain saluted and turned away. 

“Be ready, when the time comes I will need your guidance.” Tonauac nodded his assent. 

“You will have it.”

With his back turned Namacuix did not see the sly grin that had appeared on the Chaplain’s face, nor the dark machinations hidden behind the expression.


----------



## the_unchanged

Part 4 up for your perusal Waltz!


----------



## dark angel

Wow that was long, hello my friend  this is excellent, a great potrayl of a wildly misguided, judged and understood Chapter I am awaiting part five eargly, have some rep


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## waltzmelancholy_07

Damn!... You better upd8 this soon cause I want to know what happens next:grin:...


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 5*

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

INQUISITORIAL COMMUNIQUE CONTAINED WITHIN
RESTRICTED CLEARANCE
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY 


CLASSIFICATION:* Tertiary Level Communique
*CLEARANCE:* JADE
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 3.3
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Krom
*SUBJECT:* Your Request
*RECIPIENT:* Dashiel Primus Lotan, Lord Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus Headquarters Segmentum Tempestus


Lotan, 

My men have arrived, you have all that I can spare. 

They are yours to wield, though I would ask that you wield them with care. 

Krom,

High Blade Lord.


________________________



Pachenko scanned the narrow streets, sighting along the barrel of his shotgun, his finger twitched nervously on the trigger each time a scream filled the night air. Darkness surrounded them and only the search beams of the APC behind them, and the lumens attached to their weapons gave them any inclination as to what surrounded them. 

_A pox on that fat fool Narinks and his inability to get the Emperor damned power restored._

His vox barked loudly and he inhaled sharply, 

“Throne…..”

The sound had almost caused him to shoot the enforcer in front of him in the back, as his finger had spasmed once more in fear. 

He removed his helmet and wiped the beads of sweat from his bare forehead. 

I'm too old for this foolishness, not for the first time I wished I’d taken that Emperor Forsaken early retirement. 

“This is Alpha, say again.” He whispered into his vox unit.

“Alpha this is Eagle Nest, How goes the sweep?” Came the terse reply.

_Swimmingly Narinks, you asshole, thought Pachenko, why don’t you bring your fat arse out here and join us._

“Northside is clear, patrol Alpha remains uncontested. Border is secure, I repeat Border is-” Pachenko never finished the sentence as a barrage of noise interrupted him, he stared agog as the search lights of the APC scanned the avenue ahead to find the source. A sea of human forms, revealed by the white light of the powerful Lumens, stormed towards their position, the noise of their feet fall filled the air and drowned out the shouts of his men. 

It took several seconds before the arbites around him began to fall back, as they came closer he could make out the words they were yelling at him. 

“Sir, should we fire?” Called one. Alexov, Pachenko thought.

“Alpha this Eagles Nest, report! What the hell is happening out there!” Narink’s nasal whine screamed through his vox, compounding the Captain’s problems.

Pachenko couldn’t bring himself to speak, the fear of what was happening gripped his throat in ice. His men eyed him wearily, alternating nervous looks between the onrushing crowd and their silent Captain. 

“Sir.” Said one of his men sternly as they gripped his shoulder with their free hand and stared straight into his eyes. “What should we do?” 

Pachenko pushed the arbite’s hand away and cocked his shotgun. 

“Alpha I repeat, report. Damn it Pachenko what the hell-” Pachenko cut the vox short, thumbing the speech stud.

“Contact! Alpha Patrol is engaged, send reinforcements to sector C, block 9, I say again Reinforcements C-9. Now.” He screamed back, then turned to his men.

“Fall back, squad pattern Marius, cover each others back, only fire if your sure the civilians are hostile.” His men nodded in assent, the sound of the Captains voice restoring their confidence.

The onrushing tidal wave of panicking forms was only ten metres away now and closing. The sounds of their pleading voices, mingled with screams of panic spoke in an almost primal way, caressing the fear of the wall of black armoured forms that held the avenue before them. 

The tension that filled the air was thick enough to tie a noose around and strangle, stretching the already nerves of the arbites to breaking point, six months of near constant patrolling filling their minds with visions of walking death and shadowed violence.

Pachenko signalled to his men with a serious of hand gestures, any form of shouted instruction made redundant by the cacophony of panic playing out in front of them. They readied themselves as the fastest of the civilians neared their lines. 

Pachenko stood at the centre point of this thin black line, once more filled with pride at the sight of his squads discipline. They were as ready as they’d ever be and all they would could do now was wait it out and hope for the best. 

The best being the least amount of civilian casualties possible and a few dead hostiles. 

The worst being so much more terrible. 

Licking his lips, his attention returned to the crowd. 

_Emperor protect me and mine, help us to get through this and I swear I’ll make every ecclesiarch service from here until my death. He grimaced at his own choice of words. Though perhaps death isn’t the best thing to be thinking about right at this moment. _

He was wrenched from his thoughts by the crack of a shotgun unloading into the crowd, he had scant moments to try and find out who had fired before all hell broke loose. 

The crowd seemed to part before them as more of the arbites fired in panic, bodies were hurtled backwards as minute adamantine balls shredded their bodies. The noise of their deaths adding to the madness.

The voice of the crowd took on a different tone, a roar of disbelief followed by heightened panic. 

Pachenko screamed at the top of voice for his men to cease fire but the noise of the crowd swallowed his impassioned pleas up. He scanned the crowd looking for any potential hostiles, his part in this most horrible of human dramas reduced to desperate solo actions and the thin beam of torch light that lit the darkness ten metres in front of him. 

The crowd swallowed him up then and he struggled to stay upright, only his upper body bulk and sheer will kept him from falling to the ground and being trampled. Though by the screams that fell silenced after only few seconds of beginning, he realised that others of his patrol had not been so lucky. 

He heard a commotion behind him and turned to see one of his men grappling with a hostile, the crowd parting around them leaving a perfectly circular gap for the life and death struggle. Pachenko ran forward and butted the arbite’s opponent from behind, knocking it to the floor where he finished it off by removing its head with a neat shot. 

The arbite he’d saved saluted in thanks before the darkness and the crowd once more swallowed him up. Pachenko returned his attention to those of the crowd that remained around him, trying to pick out what had driven them forward in such terror, when the staccato fire of the heavy stubber opened up from behind him, pulping the entire first row of civilians. 

Pachenko almost cursed at the waste when he saw the still moving forms among the dead, ruptured forms that should have died in such a deadly deluge of fire, pulling themselves along the ground. 

Hostiles. 

He dispatched one with a body shot, then ended the struggles of a second with a head shot. All around him was a scene of carnage but the corpses before him were now unmoving, the ones further down the avenue most certainly were not. 

Pachenko whispered a silent prayer to the Emperor, all of the Saints he could remember and anyone else who was listening as he saw the wall of dead flesh that moved like a tide of death towards them. 

“So fast.“ He whispered as he watched their rage filled movements. The heavy thrum of the Stubber opened up once more but quickly fell silent, it’s drums expended yet still its intended targets pushed on. 

Close enough now for Pachenko to pick out individual PDF and Arbite uniforms among them, he grimaced as the remainders of his squad added their shotgun fire to that of the second Stubber which had also now opened up. 

The pop of Grenade launchers joined the tumult of noise as frak grenades sailed through the air to land amongst the hostiles, shredding great holes in their lines. 

Pachenko fired until his shotgun ran dry and then he pulled his heavy bolt pistol from its holster, grinning in satisfaction at its roaring discharge, its powerful bolts punching shambling corpsemen from their feet. 

It wasn’t enough though there were simply too many, too many by far.

It was too late to fall back, he could only stand and watch and fire and hope for his own survival.

One by one his men died as the horde engulfed them pulling them down and tearing them limb from limb, until the few remaining survivors fell back behind the APC’s, watching in disbelief as the vehicles were treated with as much disdain as the arbites were. Their squat bulky forms were swarmed and overcome, pieces of the armour torn from them as the hostiles tried to get at the men inside. 

Pachenko continued to fire until his pistol fell silent, his final clip spent. 

And in that horrible moment he knew he was truly alone, his squad were all dead and the Emperor, blessed be his light, had truly abandoned them. He saw this in the eyes of the abominations that stalked the darkness, their sheer existence confirming the fact in his mind. 

He watched as several of the corpsmen dropped to the ground in front of him and began to cautiously move his way, sniffing the air as though sizing him up. 

He drew his short combat blade, knowing his maul would be useless and prepared to kill as many as he could with his remaining few minutes of life, minutes, that he was sure was all he had left. 

The first of the beast stared at him with dead eyes, one hand absently played with the trail of intestines that spilled from its stomach while the other gripped a rusted cleaver. Its piteous swine-like grunts, stung Pachenko’s ears. He was certain they would be the last thing he heard, that and the sound of his heart bursting in his chest.

A second shouldered past the first, this one a headless brute, its bloated upper body bulging with muscle, it turned to face its fellow and Pachenko gagged as he caught sight of the head dangling from its shoulders, held loosely by a wide flap of skin. 

Several more crowded round before the first screamed at Pachenko, breaking the terrible and fragile moment before charging towards him, rotted weapon held high above it. 

Pachenko gritted his teeth and readied himself for death.

He fell backwards on his arse as the corpseman burst like an putrid egg sack, showering him in badly decomposing flesh. He looked up, eyes wide in terror as the remaining hostiles turned to face whatever had killed the first of them.

The group of hostiles had barely moved before a tight knot of three exploded outwards, as a massive shape burst through them from the surrounding darkness. 

It turned to face him, huge bloodshot eyes filled Pachenko’s vision, he could focus on nothing else, here was a walking nightmare, a vision more terrifying than the walking dead. 

Pachenko’s ears were filled with the sound of a roaring whine, for the giant wielded a mighty blade, easily as tall as it was. It was a brutal thing, much like its owner, it’s long handle taking up half its length before a grossly oversized blade filled the rest. It was alive with motion as teeth inches long whirred in a blur along its edge. 

The Giant strode forward as more of its kind joined the fray, the corpsemen were unphased and hundreds of them swarmed forward to meet the warriors in a clash of armour and rotting flesh. 

The beasts never stood a chance as the armoured brutes tore through them like a bolt round through heretic flesh. 

Pachenko could only stare in disbelief at the sheer savage power of the Giants, though his trained warrior eye could see it was only a front for they were more than brutes, the economy of their movements betrayed them and singled them out for what they truly were. 

_Astartes._

Two of them bowled through a dense group of the enemy, the wide sweep of their chain glaives mowing all who stood before them down. Worse still was the one who carried no weapon, laying into the groaning corpsemen with his huge fists, caving in rotting skulls and flaying dead flesh. 

Finally it was over and only a single hostile remained. Even with half of its body torn away it still clawed forward in a killing rage, the weapon less giant roared with cruel laughter before crushing its skull beneath his armoured boot. 

Pachenko whimpered in fear. 

_Astartes, the Angels of Death, the Emperor’s blades made flesh._

The first Giant turned towards him, those bloodshot eyes staring out from beneath a layer of fetid blood. Pachenko flinched as he saw a flash of white, teeth filed razor sharp, filling a lipless mouth. The Giant laughed once more, wiping the gore from its shoulder to display the bloodied cleaver upon its pauldron, the stylised insignia sending ripples of fear through the Arbite Captain. 

‘Emperor’s Mercy. The Butchers.” the words tumbled from his mouth like a torrent of fear.

“I see our reputation precedes us.” Returned the rumbling voice of the Giant. 

Pachenko nodded dumbly, his body spasming in fear.

_The Emperor’s Cleavers. The Butchers of Antioch._ 

“The Emperor’s Cleavers will purge this world of its disgusting taint.” It said before striding forward and thumbing on its blade, Pachenko simply stared as the massive weapon flashed forward to bury itself once more in flesh.

This time the flesh of the living. 

The Arbites Captain screamed as his torso disintegrated, the last thing he saw was the grinning face of the Giant as it watched him die.


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 6*

_'These creatures are not even worth recording on the Butcher's bill, their disgustng presence will be wiped from this world or we will die in the atempt.'_

*-attribued to an unnamed Emperor's Cleaver.*

_'They're everywhere.......we can't win.......even the astartes struggle to cope......we must pray to the Emperor for salvation, pray that his light has not abandonded us.' _

*- Golbur Vass, Major of the PDF and Commander of the Defence of Soliban Prime.*





“This is preposterous!” Growled the Older Warrior before Namacuix. “This is my Ship and it will remain in orbit of this planet. In spite of what the young fool before me thinks, nothing is going to change that fact.” He thundered his fist upon his command throne to emphasize the point. 

Namacuix stood quietly and simply shook his head.

“This young fool, as you so eloquently put it, is still in command of this ship and all of the forces on it, including you. The command of the Sky Bridge is mine and we shall be breaking orbit in six hours and plotting a course for Priism, where we hall rendezvous with the rest of the 3rd Company and answer the summons of the Godir.”

The Captain tutted in anger. “Am I not Vladren, Lord Admiral of the Fleet and Captain of the SkyBridge? Is that not who I am Autemoc? For if I was I would surely have a say where my ship goes.”

Autemac, Vladren’s second and Captain of the fleet, pinched his forehead between two fingers. 

Namacuix raised his hand to show Autemoc that he need not respond. 

Instead Vladren launched into another tirade. 

“What does the Lord Captain Commander have to say about this? Does he agree that some young pup should wrest my captaincy from me?” 

Nama didn’t answer. 

“He doesn’t know does he? You haven’t even consulted with him have you?” the Captain turned away in disbelief. “I am a Rosian boy, one of Bifrost’s own. He’d never let you push around a veteran of the First! I wont stand for this!”

Nama had reached breaking point, he’d had enough of being bullied around by the veterans of the Old Guard, he was the Commander of the Watch, only 2nd in command to Bifrost himself. He was the one who deserved more respect. 

He gritted his teeth and hammered his fist upon a targeting console. “Enough!” He roared.

Vladren and Autemoc simply stared aghast at his outburst, while the bustling serfs around them pretended not to notice the raised tension that now filled the bridge. 

Nama pointed at the Commander of the fleet. “You will respect my commands Old one, for I am in charge not you. Though, As you are Commander of the Fleet I will give you a choice, join us and retain command of the Skybridge or await Bifrost’s return upon the Puma’s Claw.”

Vladren had turned a deep shade of crimson, rage flushed upon his face but before he could speak Nama continued.

“Be careful as to the choice you make Vladren, I will warn you now, there is a line being drawn and on one side there are those who have led this Chapter to it’s current state and on the other there are those of us who are tired of these failings and who are ready to do something about it.”

Autemoc simply stared at Namacuix in disbelief. 

Vladren was not so startled by Namcuix’s words, he clenched his single fist while the mechandrites attached to his ruined shoulder whipped around spasmodically and for a moment it almost seemed like he would strike out at the younger man. 

Namacuix didn’t move, he knew this moment could go either way but he hoped it be resolved through non violent means. 

It seems the Emperor was in no mood to punish his brashness this day, for Vladren turned away and stormed off the bridge, a pregnant silence descended, with even the serfs standing stock still unsure how to react to the drama that had unfolded before them. 

Finally Autemoc shook his head, before clearing his throat. 

“Come with me.” He said before striding forward towards a small chamber off to the side of the bridge.

Namacuix nodded grimly before following in his wake. 



Autemoc stood to one side allowing the other marine to enter the small room before closing the portal. 

The room was cast in shadow but Namacuix knew they weren’t alone, he decided against mentioning it, he wished to see what kind of game Autemoc was playing. It seemed there guest was content not to declare his presence either. 

“Harsh words.” The Fleet captain finally said. 

“They needed to be said.” Namacuix grunted, almost guiltily.

“You shouldn’t allow your anger to get the better of you brother, I worry that you have played your hand to soon.” he continued. 

Namacuix rubbed his chin, he had a feeling the Fleet Captain was right. His rashness was a source of discomfort for him, try as he might to live up to the image of his fore-bearers, the harder he found it. The youth of his spirit was what had given him the ambition to reach the height of Captain of the Third, however the same youth of spirit caused an irrational streak within him that did not sit well with the older members of the Chapter nor if he was honest, with himself. 

“Perhaps next time it would be better if our brother did not allow his anger to get the better of him, this display of choosing the wrong path has haunted him once before.” Came a rasping voice from the shadows. 

It was a voice Namacuix recognised. 

He turned to face the hidden figure, his features twisted in distaste.

“Since when does a Captain of the Verdants eavesdrop upon the musings of those stationed above them.”

The Figure stepped into the light, exposing a face that, had it not been clearly battle ravaged would almost have been considered handsome, one side of it anyway. The other having been completely flayed of skin, completely exposing the skull beneath. This bone had then been covered with metal alloy to protect it. To all intents and purposes it matched the terrifying deaths-head mask more common among the anarans. 

“Only when he is invited by those same officers.” The figure replied, eyeing Autemoc. 

Namacuix turned to look at the Fleet Captain, confusion written clearly on his face. 

“Autemoc?” He whispered quietly trying to contain his rage. “What is the meaning of this?”

Autemoc sighed and moved to stand beside the newcomer. 

“Ocelotl is an ally to our cause, he is vital to our success.” Namacuix said nothing, instead he simply stared at the other warrior, who tired of the discussion raised his hand to interrupt.

“The Lord of the Azuls is correct, there is an undeniable enmity between us-” 

“Enmity? Sun’s breath, you call what you did enmity?” Namacuix snarled. 

Autemoc stood dumbfounded, he had not expected this. 

“I did only what my honour demanded.” Ocelotl replied calmly. “Had I not done so I would merely have followed the path of Cowards already trodden by another.” It did not take a Librarian to know who the Scout Captain was referring to. 

Namacuix flew into a rage at his words, flipping the desk between them and lunging for Ocelotl. He was tackled at the waist and flung to the side. 

He struggled in Autemoc’s grip as Ocelotl stood impassively before them. 

“What are you doing? He has slighted my honour for the last time-” He was silenced by a thundering punch to the chin that he rolled with as he and the fleet Captain separated. 

He rose to his feet, his anger dissipating in a flush of surprise at his brothers actions. 

“The brashness you displayed on the bridge, followed by this foolish business with Ocelotl will end now. You are our best hope for uniting our Chapter and I will not have that compromised by such caustic actions.” 

Namacuix once more felt something that he was becoming accustomed to, shame at his actions. 

“I apologise, I allowed my anger to overcome me.” 

Autemoc simply shook his head in disappointment.

“I stood by and watched the Commander of this Chapter do the same, his rage at the Imperium that birthed us and of late abandoned us engulfed him and has nearly destroyed this Chapter and I did nothing to stop it.” Namacuix felt his shame deepen at the sadness tingeing the Older warriors words. “I will not do so again, you must control your anger Namacuix, the Red tide is the only companion that you will find on that road.”

Namacuix could see that even the normally vitriolic Ocelotl was touched by the profoundness of Autemoc’s words. 

“Ocelotl is here because he is leading a collection of our brothers who are fatigued by the current state of affairs, they still believe that we are a Chapter and that we should be united as one. We need him not only for this but because he does not think like the rest of us, for we think tactically and in terms of warfare, politics is an unfamiliar country. Unused to subtlety of word or deed, we can only see the battleground and problems as obstacles to be violently dispatched.” He walked behind the tall, one eyed warrior and placed his fist on his shoulder, “He however is a political creature, a jackal where we are wolves, he thinks and acts with a subtlety unpossessed by his brothers and will act as our devil’s advocate, pointing out flaws in our plans and offering alternative advice that we are too blinkered to see.”

Namacuix turned to face his rival and raised his hand offering it in salute. 

Ocelotl stared at it, his single remaining eye widening in surprise before he gripped it. 
“Whatever has happened before, is for another time, for now I will set aside our differences and offer an alliance.” 

Ocelotl stared him in the eyes. “An alliance that will see this Chapter forged anew.” He finished. 

Autemoc clapped his hands together. “Good, now we can begin the planning in earnest.” 

Ocelotl turned and breathed in sharply. “I’m just hoping that opposite to his words for our dear Commander of the fleets, that the Captain has a plan that actually involves re-unifying the Chapter rather than just dividing the number of factions from seven to two.” 

Despite himself Namacuix laughed at the other marine’s words, Autemoc joined in before a lop sided grin split what remained of the Scout Captains face.


----------



## dark angel

Once again, that was an awesome part  More, please!


----------



## Zodd

Yes, more. Please. Fantastic idea bringing those elements together.
Have some rep.


----------



## the_unchanged

Cheers guys next part up soon!


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 7*

_'Prism is the jewel in the crown of thorns that is Void’s edge.’_

*- anonymous*


Namacuix stood alone in the star chamber, his first time of doing so, and being here he found it easy to understand why it had been so aptly named. It was the Chamber at the zenith of the Crystalline tower; the solitary Bastion of the Godir, the rulers of Prism in stead of it’s sovereignty to the Imperial Crown, and from its height he could see a huge swathe of the capital before him. 

It was truly a breathtaking place, it’s transparent ceiling allowing the inhabitants of the tower an unrivalled view of the beautiful night sky of this most beautiful of worlds. 

He stood beneath that ceiling, gazing upon the stars it revealed and wondered which of them was home. In their turn the stars above stared back, their unblinking glare offering no answers for the troubled young Captain. 

They were beautiful none the less, filling his vision in its entirety, their radiance only blocked by the light wispy clouds in the sky above. One of his only memories of childhood had been beneath a sky like this, marvelling as the star gazer, priest of his people had read the stars and foretold of the coming of the SkyBridge and it’s protectors. Looking out, he wondered what the old man would read in this sky. 

He dropped his line of sight and looked through the viewing window before him and was offered a no less beautiful visage, the majesty of the city of glass arrayed on the plains below, it’s beautiful crystalline structures reflecting the lighting of the multihued display lumens that lit them internally. 

He smiled as he took it all in, glad for respite from the rough travelling of the past few weeks aboard the Skybridge, where he had split his time between planning their fledging conspiracy and training the fresh cadres of Verdant scouts who had been presented to him by a positively beaming Heimdallr and in keeping with their supposed animosity, a scowling Ocelotl. 

Though they had decided to maintain the appearance of an intense rivalry before their brothers, Namacuix was reluctant to admit that over the course of their discussions the young Captain had garnered a new respect for the brooding Ocelotl. 

In their past as squad mates he had never seen the true face of the Scout Captain, for he had almost always maintained an aloofness before the younger Namacuix. However, now that they shared a common goal and were forced to offer words of their next course of action, Namacuix had grown to admire the quiet and efficient manner of the marine, accepting in time that his council was generally wise and almost always freely given. 

It was his dry caustic wit that had thrown Namacuix the most, many times the Captain of the Azuls found himself chortling or even laughing out loud when Ocelotl had dropped one of his intelligent remarks taking both his fellow brothers by surprise and throwing them totally off guard. 

Strange company indeed he had been keeping, a Marine who no doubt would kill him if he had the chance, an eccentric Chaplain and a veteran Apothecary who had not seen combat in decades. Only the presence of Autemoc hinted at the past, and the friends he had not been around in some time.

He was unsure of much of the council he had been given for he was sure that both the Apothecary and the Chaplain were hiding something from him and try as he might he couldn’t completely trust Ocelotl either, in fact with the exception of Autemoc, Borlung and his Azul guard and of course Ictlan he worried that he could trust no one. 

The Skybridge had been quiet over the period of travel, his enforced training regimes which had almost all of the companies engaged in mock battles and tough stratagem training had ensured that a subtle truce had descended and the open hostility he had arrived to find had been swept under the surface, to rear its ugly head again in the future no doubt, allowing his brothers to maintain a semblance of normality. 

Only the aloof Amarils and their Captain Monvoth had declined to attend, instead using their time to train their minds, their true weapons and Namacuix had, perhaps unwisely if he was to admit it, decided not to press the matter. 

The only other company who had also kept brothers excluded from the sessions had been the Purans and Namacuix had consented to this for Forex his Brother Captain, had been working on something that had been hidden from the majority of the Chapter, something that Ocelotl had alerted him to and that interested their little group immensely. A stratagem that would come into play should they need it and tipping the coming conflict in their favour. They Hoped. 

Namacuix was wrenched from the attention of his worries by the arrival of Borlung, Sergeant of his Honour guard, rapping politely on the solid, opaque crystalline doors. 

“Enter” Namacuix called out as he turned to face the rooms entrance. 

Borlung opened the door slowly, before it was thrust open by a second figure and Namacuix’s face split into a huge grin as he realised who it was. 

“Xilonen!” He exclaimed before running forward to embrace his brother marine.

“Well met brother.” Xilonen replied as they separated. 

“How is this possible? I wasn’t expecting you and the rest of the Company for another week?” 

Xilonen looked to his right, sharing a grin with Borlung. 

“Autemoc sent a communiqué explaining that we were needed, so I took the Otomi and left the remainder of the Company to protect the Shipping lanes entrusted to us. The Eagle’s Blade sped here as fast as we could, we would have been delayed for several days once we entered the system, had Borlung not notified the Godir of our impending arrival.” 

Namacuix nodded, pleased with his Brothers words. 

“It is good to have you here, I have a feeling I will need to keep my brothers close to me over the coming months, I fear I may need the Azul’s Blades.”

Xilonen frowned at his Captain’s words but understood the import within them. 

“You will have them Brother Captain.” He dropped to one knee before Namacuix offering his power sword before him. 

“Rise Brother, I never doubted that it would be so, “ Xilonen rose once more to his feet, “I will explain what has transpired in more detail when we have a moment alone. For now I must attend the Godir and the reason we are here in the first place, “ he moved towards the chamber entrance, “Come it will not do to keep the rulers of this world waiting.” 

With that he swept from the room, closely followed by his Azul Brothers. 


They were admitted to the audience chambers of the Godir, to find only one of the ruling Brotherhood upon the council thrones that ringed the Chambers, Namacuix recognised him as Voltier, the elder of the council.

“Ah, Finally the Sky Warriors have arrived. Though I am wondering why only the Second attends us? When we requested the First. What slight is this upon the Council of the Godir.” 

Namacuix gritted his teeth, he expected Voltier’s haughty tones to be superior, as always, however he had not expected disrespect to be shown so openly. 

“ My Lord, though it is the duty of the Rainbow Warriors to serve Both Prism and Tonal III and all their people, as well as the people of the Imperium, we would not expect our protection to be taken for granted, nor would we expect to receive words of disrespect from a Lord of the Godir. We have travelled from afar to attend your summons, were it the Seventh who were sent in our stead I would hope that you would offer them the respect you afford the First.” 

The flesh on Voltier’s face turned pallid and drawn. 

“The First are indisposed.” continued Namacuix, “We are here in their stead and we would hope that you accept our Lord Commanders absence in good grace, for he sends the not only the Second but the SkyBridge also.” 

Voltier positively baulked at that.

“Of course we accept Lord Bifrost’s absence in the good grace you would expect from us. The Second are of course most welcome and we thank you for attending to us.” he blustered in reply. 

Namacuix almost smiled at his discomfort. The old Lord was typical of all priismites, they had a strong belief that they were superior to all others, it was something that he both admired and despised in them. 

Their people were as proud as his own and though their airs and graces irritated them he knew that they were good people and it was his duty to serve them. 

“Now my Lord how can the Third be of assistance?” 

It was then that the Godir turned to look to his right as three figures entered the Chambers. 

Namcuix was stunned to realise one of them was Astartes. 

“It was my Lord who requests your assistance Astartes, not the Godir.” Spoke the first of the three, an elder who was almost akin to Voltier, with his long beard and snow white hair. 

Namacuix said nothing he simply stared at the second of the three, the Astartes in pale Green armour, who stared back at him, violent tension filled the air. He surveyed the armour looking for any signs of what chapter the marine belonged to, the livery displayed upon his pauldron showed a cleaver bisecting a skull and was thoroughly unfamiliar to Namacuix. Judging by the markings on the other pauldron the warrior was a Sergeant, though even these markings were strange and unfamiliar. The marine met his eyes once more flashing a row of sharpened teeth in a grin that would have been more at home on the face of a green skin. 

Namacuix wrinkled his nose in displeasure, his first meeting with a fellow astartes in several decades and it turns out to be a savage brute. There was something about this warrior though that kept his attention, something hidden, Namacuix had the strange feeling that this savagery was a front, an act. It was a feeling that Namacuix couldn’t shake and he didn’t know why. 

It was then that the spell was broken as he noticed the third member of the group, a lithe female in a tight white body glove moved to stand beside the elder. Namacuix dismissed the others immediately knowing this one was the true power, even beside a warrior of such strength as the astartes she exuded threat. She was no adept or bodyguard, her eyes surveyed all around her, taking in the entire scene as though cataloguing it for dissection at a later time. 

“Oh? And who might your master be?” Namacuix replied his eyes never leaving the female. 

The Elder glanced almost imperceptibly at the female, further confirming her status, Namacuix decided he would play along but he was curious to know why this act was required. 

“The simple answer to that Astartes, is the Inquisition.” Replied the Elder. 

Namacuix did not react to his words, though the same could not be said for his men, who physically tensed at the mention of that most clandestine of organisations. 

“And what would your masters in the inquisition require of us," a frown crossed his face" I’m sorry I’m not sure I caught your name?” He replied keeping his voice steady. 

“My name is Orinir Koss, Interrogator of His Majesty’s Inquisition. This,” he said, gesturing to the marine beside him, “ is Brothgaar, High Claw of the Emperor’s Cleavers Chapter. Now we will discuss what-”

“And the female?” Namacuix interjected.

“I’m sorry?” replied Orinir.

“The Female, the Third in your group, will we have the pleasure of her name also?” Once again Orinir glanced to the side, wrong footed by Namacuix’s questions.

“She has no name, she is an adept, a scribe, nothing more.” He said finally. 

_I think not, this one is more than a simple scribe. Namacuix thought, as he eyed her once more. _

“Perhaps you would be better off listening to the Interrogator instead of asking aimless questions _ Captain_.” Growled Brothgaar, he positively spat the last word. 

_He acts like a savage but his words betray him, he is too well spoken._

Namacuix raised a hand to halt his men, who had moved to offensive stances in the face of the insult. 

“Perhaps you should silence your pet Astartes Orinir and continue with your request, I do not take well to being insulted in front of my men.”

Orinir nodded brusquely and Namacuix was surprised to see a slight grin appear on Brothgaar’s face. 

_Definitely not a savage this one._

“My masters require the assistance of your chapter upon a world within the locality of Void’s Edge. It has been a long time since any of my order has made contact with you and your kind and we would use this opportunity to gauge your loyalty.”

Namcuix raised an eyebrow at this, “Our loyalty?” he replied. 

“It is felt that in your solitude, in your absence from the eyes of the Imperium, that perhaps your loyalty to the Throne may have been tested.”

Namacuix almost flinched at his words, the truth in them was almost to close to the bone for him to bear. 

“What he is hinting at Rainbow Warrior, is that it is believed that you have turned from the Emperor’s light, perhaps even embracing the arch enemy.” Brothgaar said, smiling as his words sank in. 

Namacuix saw straight through this ruse, the Marine was here to simply push buttons, allowing his cohorts to gauge their reactions. He would not rise to it, instead he tried a different tact. 

He charged forward, glancing the interrogator and skirting the High Claw, he lashed out with a straight palm his fingers splayed and aimed at the nameless scribe’s throat.

The female moved quicker than even Namacuix expected, dodging away from the blow to somersault backwards, she landed on her feet. She flashed her hand from beneath her sleeve and hundreds of metallic slivers shot forth aimed at Namacuix’s exposed face. He raised his gauntleted fist before his head deflecting the majority of them, though several still stung the flesh of his face. 

He continued forward in silence as all around him, the gathered figures watched in stunned silence at the dramatic scene unfolding before them. 

The Female dodged a second blow, ducking under the marine’s striking arm and flashed a punch of her own aimed at his throat. Namacuix snarled, catching her fist in his other hand, he pulled her close embracing her in a strangle hold, only to feel the sharpness of a blade pressed against his own neck. 

This had all happened in a matter of seconds.

Suddenly the Emperor’s Cleaver reacted and exploded into action, charging forward to strike the exposed back of the captain. Before he had even moved two steps, he was tackled by the form of Borlung, who pinned him to the ground before being kicked clear by Brothgaar. 

Before the Big Marine could regain his feet however, Xilonen’s blade met his throat pinning him to the floor once more. 

“Make any move Cleaver and my blade will pierce your throat.” Said the Azul. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Babbled the Interrogator confusion clear on his face. 

Tension filled the air and it seemed that someone would die in the next few seconds. 

Suddenly Namacuix’s booming laughter filled the air. 

“You are almost a match for an unarmed astartes, I am impressed scribe.” He released his grip stepping away from the female, before nodding to Xilonen, who then helped Brothgaar to his feet. 

“Now,” he said eyes still on the scribe, who still hadn’t spoken a word. “Perhaps we can dispense with this pretence that you are not in charge here?” 

“This is preposterous, I am in charge of this dele-” Orinir was silenced as the female scribe glanced at him. 

“Enough Orinir,” She said. 

“As you wish my Lady.” Replied the Elder Interrogator before bowing his head and moving t stand beside the hulking form of their astartes guard. 

“I am Inquisitor Cotillion and it appears you have saw through my ruse, it seems I have underestimated you Captain.” 

“A failing of many my Lady.” Namacuix replied, a grin spreading across his face.

“I trust that I did not harm you?” She answered.

Namacuix reddened, before laughing once more. “Nothing but a few scratches, I commend your skill.“ He raised his hand to wipe a small gobbet of already clotting blood from above his eyes.

“Now perhaps we can return to the reason why you summoned us here? The Godir are unused to such displays within their chambers and should we not get to the point quickly I fear Voltier will have us expelled.” Namacuix’s men laughed at their Commanders jest but it seemed the humour was lost upon the Inquisitor. 

“Lord Godir Voltier will do as I ask, and I hope you will do the same.” She said curtly, she glanced at Voltier, who was now looking positively out of his depth, before returning her gaze to Namacuix.

“As Orinir has already explained there is a world not far from this system that is under threat by a deadly invasion. The local arbites and PDF have struggled to contain it, my own forces along with those of the High Claw arrived a short time ago, however we are also struggling to turn the tide. We require your assistance and hope that will be free in giving it. It is not often that the Inquisition requests assistance from anyone, however due to your autonomy as members of the Adeptus Astartes and also you lack of contact with the Imperium it was felt that only a request for your help would suffice.”

Namacuix nodded, understanding the politics at play here. The grin on his face quickly dropping to a passive posture.

_You’re here to measure our loyalty, accept and we can be brought once more to heel, ignore it and we will be under suspicion.

It seems I do not have much of a choice._

“Very well, you will have our aid.” He replied with a grimace.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

Damn... So many updates since my absence... And seems like your reputation is growing.... Keep it up... I'll post some comments after I'm done:victory::grin:...


----------



## Zodd

And the big -I- enters the field.Lovelyk:


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 8*

*Pict recording file number:- 40003786
Telepathic Duct:- Astropath Terminus Valence
Ref:- Battle Report - Heroes resting place *

_Pict recording shakes as blurry image resolves displaying the back of a running PDF trooper_

_Human screams - Unknown Source_

_Pict recording swings to right as PDF turns to open fire at unseen opponent_

*PDF trooper* - 'There behind us!'

_ More Sporadic fire as camera picks out shuffling forms in the distance _

_ Pict recording jolts into static as Trooper seemingly drops to his knees _

*PDF trooper* - 'God Emperor no.....it can't be..not them'

_ Pict recording clears up as blurry figure stumbles towards it, image resolves to show shuffling figure in PDF uniform._

*PDF Trooper* - 'Emperor preserve us, we cant fight them.'

*2nd PDF Trooper* - 'What horror is thi-' 

_Words are cut short by gargled screams as Hostile reaches their position_

_ Pict rises once more as trooper gets to his feet, pistol slowly enters from bottom of recording as trooper raises it to his own face._

*PDF Trooper* - 'Emperor have mercy on my soul'

_ Sound of trigger pulling, Pict recording ends abruptly _





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Vasnov and Casin ran along the empty street, weapons clutched tightly to their chests, they entered a darkened alley stopping within its entrance to gain some rest and work out how far they had left to go. Casin watched the street in front of them, while Vasnov checked his stubber for remaining rounds, it was then that they heard a cry from the darkness around them, it was answered instantly by a second cry. 

Casin’s face turned stoney and Vasnov raised his weapon scanning the street, while his friend raised a small monocle. 

“What do you see?” Vasnov whispered.

“They’ve found our trail, just have to hope they don’t keep on it all the way back to the wall.” He replied, looking through his viewer once more. 

“What do we do?” Vasnov queried, fear evident in his voice. 

“Nothing.” Casin replied matter of factly, before dropping the lens back into his pocket, “We have to get the message back to Tie that the others are dead.” 

Vasnov nodded shakily. 

“You ready?” Casin asked the boy, watching the alley mouth for further signs of pursuit. 

Vasnov rose to his feet, raising his weapon and was immediately covered in blood as Casin’s arm exploded in front of him. He fell backwards as he felt something heavy land on his chest, he rolled over kicking himself away and bringing his weapon to bear. 

He nervously fired up his lumen torch. 

The darkness washed away to reveal the terrified face of Casin, who’s eyes were looking towards the alley mouth. 

Vasnov raised his weapon, allowing the lumen light to travel upwards. 

He nearly screamed as he saw what it exposed. 

Standing at the mouth of the alley was one of the hostiles, a cruel hooked scythe dangling from one hand. Its face was a bloody ruin with only its horrific mouth still visible. 

It screamed as it saw him and charged forward, weapon raised. Casin was quicker though he lashed out with his lasrifle catching the beast in the face and knocking it backwards, as it tried to crawl along the floor to once more get at Vasnov, the older warrior placed his muzzle against its head and pulled his trigger. 

The creatures head exploded. 

The noise of the lasgun, though quiet compared to a stubber, sounded like a peel of thunder in the cramped confines of the alley. 

Vasnov looked up, terror plain on his face as the screams of hundreds of hostiles filled the night sky. 

Casin, face bloodless and pale, still managed to look stoic. “You have to make the final run yourself lad, I’ll stall them.” 

Vasnov rose to his feet. “We can make it together old man.” He replied with a nervous smile. It was then that he saw the grievous wound to the right hand side of his friends body, illuminated in the wane moonlight. 

“Throne Casin….. Im…Im so-” 

Casin raised his good hand cutting him off, “Save it lad, we don’t have the time. Get going.” 

Vasnov simply stood, unwilling to abandon his old friend. 

The screams cut the air once more, closer this time. 

“GO!” Casin yelled, prodding him forward. 

Vasnov started to run as behind him he heard the shuffling of hundreds of feet rushing forward.

“For the Emperor and Solibun!” Vasnav heard Casin cry as his las rifle began to fire. 

Tears fell freely from Vasnav’s face as he ran, he yelped in sorrow as he heard his friend’s weapon fall silent and his screams pierce the night air. 




“Whats the word from the Factorium?” Sanetoch asked as he prowled the room behind his comrades, who sat before the vox. 

Bostnot turned from what he was doing, the vox set covering one ear. “We’ve got nothing, both them and mama Casnovs are down.” 

“Emperor damn it.” Sanetoch growled, hammering his fist hard on the desk. 

All three looked around, as Vasnov burst into the room, tear streaks through the grime covering his face. 

“Whats up lad? Whats happened?” Sanetoch asked, moving forward to take the younger man by the shoulders. “Where’s Casin?”

“He’s….He’s..” The boy broke down in tears once more, shaking his head and unable to continue. 

Flopping backwards onto the chair offered by Bostnot. He looked up into the eyes of the concerned friends before him. “There all dead.” He whispered. 

It was then that a blaring siren split the cadence of the room. 

Bostnot grabbed a rifle from beside the vox unit. “The proximity alarm? Emperor’s everlasting gaze, they must be inside the complex. 

Faston, the other man in the room was checking the pict recorders as Sanetoch knelt before Vasnov. “Were you followed lad? How many are we dealing with here?” 

“Hundreds.” It was Faston who answered, his eyes still clamped on the pict screen. 

Sanetoch rose quickly, lifting the vox speaker and flipping the switch to internal. “Listen up kids, we have a breach, looks like the mother of all hostile tides. Get to your positions and open up with everything you got. Use the Hammers till the drums run die, the less of the beasts that follow us out of here the better. “ 

He dropped the speaker as he turned back to Vasnov, the others already leaving the room. 

“Get up lad.” He said. The boy continued to look at the floor, ignoring him. “Get up.” He said again, his voice louder and sterner this time.

The boy looked up through teary eyes. 

Sanetoch slapped him hard across the face. 

Vasnov surged ton his feet, anger strewn across his face. 

Teeth gritted he stared at the older warrior, tension filling the air. “That’s more like it, lets see that anger.”

“Pick up your weapon. Now.” Sanetoch said quietly. To his relief the boy dropped his eyes looking for his weapon, finding it where he dropped it near the door. 

“Time to get your own back, theres nothing sweeter than the feeling of gunning them down. Casin would want you to fight.” 

The boy knew the words were right, a spark lit once more behind his eyes and he nodded dumbly, before raising his weapon. 

“Let’s go.” Sanetoch strode towards the door and the boy followed in his wake. 


The sound of the hammers was almost deafening, their powerful ammunition was tearing the ground up around the wall, lighting the night sky in strobing bursts of staccato fire. 

Each burst revealed wall after wall of decaying flesh, the hostiles seemingly filling the fenced off avenues. The fences had been torn up by the hammer shot and some of the hostiles were beginning to get into the Wall’s complex, avoiding the hail of fire. 

Taking care of these ones came down to the warriors covering the lower grounds. 

“Show these skin sacks what it means to be alive.” Screamed Sanetoch, placing a neat shot that took off the head of the first of them to enter the lumen fields. 

His men joined in, and soon more and more of the onrushing fiends fell to the gun fire of the defenders. Sanetock glanced to his right, only to see Vasnov rushing forwards to engage a shuffling beast with only one arm. The young warrior swung his weapon, taking the hostile in the face and knocking it to the floor, he hammered his weapon again and again into the prone form of his foe. 

Sanetoch raised his rifle and fired off one shot killing a second hostile that was bearing down on his friend, buying him time to fall back to their lines. 

By this time the first of the Hammers had begun to fall silent. 

“Five down.” Yelled one of the defenders as he stepped back from his smoking weapon. 

Sanetoch looked across the darkness that filled the area beyond the lumen field, within it he could hear thousands of screams and grunts filling the air. 

It was then that he knew it wasn’t going to be enough, the Hammers were running dry and yet there were literally thousands more of the Hostiles waiting for that silence. 

Sanetoch signalled for the retreat, his men beginning to fall back towards the wall. 

Upon the walls the hammer operators and snipers were already beginning there own extraction routines, the silent hammers were abandoned first while those with ammo continued to cover the defenders below. 

A small trickle of hostiles had already began to pour through the gaps in the lines of Hammer fire. 

As these small numbers rushed forward they began to set off the mines within the Wall’s grounds. 

Explosions lit the night sky, adding to the already deafening sounds of the Hammers. 

Sanetoch pulled his warriors back into the Barbican, ordering them to fire up the remaining transports. 

It was then that those forerunners discovered the barrier awaiting them outside of the court gates. Torches primed the first of them scanned the gates, lumen light revealing hundreds more of the shuffling, degrading assailants. 

Confusion reigned for the next few, precious moments as defenders forgot their careful routines in a moment of panic. They fired off wild shots into the night, losing their calm and almost their lives. 

That was until the calming force of Sanetoch entered the fray, the veteran warrior, ex guardsman, father of thirteen emperor fearing children and natural leader swept into the chaos like a bullet through an insane mind, the Barbican gates closing swiftly behind him, his natural aura bringing calm and order wherever his throaty growl could be heard or callused hands could be felt. 

His first flurry of orders sent several of the defenders scurrying back the way they came to continue prepping the modified carriers while the rest lined up in sharp firing lines, lines that began systematically eradicating the hostile threat before them. 

It was then that the roar went up from the complex behind them and the Barbican’s metal barrier, that had stood erect, solid and impenetrable for thousands of years suddenly groaned as the shuddering mass behind it forced their presence to be felt. 

Sanetoch knew it would be close, the hostiles had taken the yard in a river torrent of rotting flesh and now only the gates held them, before them stood the barrier of thousands more. He dropped into his seat beside Vanetov in the driver’s place. 

They continued to watch the action outside of their APC play out on the view screen before them. 

He thumbed the vox speaker and signalled for the remainder of his men to get aboard the carriers, then prayed he hadn’t left it too late. 

Behind them the gate shuddered once more, a corner creaking upwards incredibly, hands and limbs forcing themselves through. 

In front of them thousands more hostiles burst forth from the darkness, crashing through the entrance, heading straight for the carriers. 

Sanetoch listened as the engines fired up. 

He closed his eyes.

Then he prayed to the Most Holy God Emperor of Mankind, Lord of Terra and Leader of countless warriors for succour, for saviours, for a pox upon those shuffling unhuman beasts before them, anything, anything that would allow him and his men to see the dawn. 

Almost inexplicably, He answered.

And he answered with a roar that almost deafened Sanetoch. It took the old Warrior several seconds to realise what the noise was. 

Bolters. The Emperor had sent saviours alright. 

He’d sent his own living shields. The Astartes.

The wall to the right of the APC exploded and a solid mass of pale green and red glowing eyes burst through in shower of ferrocrete blocks and masonry. The pict viewer picked out the warrior in poor detail the lighting and angle conspiring to foil any attempt at aclear picture, though to the former guardsmen it was terrifying enough.

He was a veteran of wars with green skins, a killer for four decades and a survivor of the Guard, yet he simply watched in dumb fascination as this warrior from a propaganda pict, this avatar of the Emperor’s might, this Angel of death stormed into action before him like a nightmare and dream made tangible. 

The sheer efficiency and vitality of the slaughter was unbelievable to watch, the flood of hostiles was transformed into a rain of body parts and gore mist. 

He had fought beside and against, hundreds of warriors yet he had never seen their like, they fought with a confidence borne of knowing that they are top of the food chain, striding across the battle zone like machine weapons made flesh.

It was systematic, it was brutal. It was slaughter, and they revelled in it.

He watched as more of the massive titans waded into that river of filth and the rain became a deluge, here and there the gore was punctuated by a protruding weapon that glinted in the moonlight, brutal things that Sanetoch knew he would never be able to wield. To be that close and personal to your enemy, to deal death on that level, was something he himself could never grow accustomed to. 

The terrifying peel of bolter fire trickled away as more and more of the warriors took to the fight with their blade weapons to join in the slaughter. 

The Barbican gate behind then finally expired, dropping to the ground before thousands more of the beasts poured forward to join the fray, ignoring the carriers in their bid to subdue the threat of the giant warriors. 

Sanetoch reflected that it was almost as if they fought with one mind, knowing where the greatest threat lay. 

This second wave crushed against the warriors almost overwhelming them defeat, however, was not an option to the astartes and there were more horrors yet to be released by the Emperor’s Warriors upon this battlefield. 

A hulking monstrosity, moving forward slowly on legs as tall and as wide as he was, lumbered into view, its huge frame rotated left and right, strafing huge weapon arms across the hostiles pulping them in huge numbers. Larger kin to those titans who fought beside it, it was a terrifying testament of the power of the Astartes. 

Sanetoch was lost for words. 

The tide was shifting. 

More of the warriors strode into view, these ones sober brothers to the blood thirsty marines who battled in the midst of the Hostiles. 

They bore armour of brilliant blue, the blue of churning sea and storm laced sky and moved as one, firing their powerful weapons into the mass of fiends before them. 

Grenades and missiles streaked the air, bursting through the night sky with fiery tails like comets of death, to explode amongst the enemy, incenerating them in their hundreds. 

Gusts of flame engulfed the shuffling beasts, jets bursting forth from huge weapons wielded by the marines. Human fireballs scattered from the crowd in all directions, only to be battered to the ground by the advancing astartes. 

The fighting lasted for another hour before the remaining Hostiles ebbed once more into the night, almost as if their feral minds realised that to remain was to die. 

Inside the APC, Sanetoch flinched as someone beside him yelled in exultation. He burst into a grin as he realised it was his Vasnov, tears of joy were strewn across his face. Sanetoch grinned as it all finally sunk in, they’d been saved.

One of the warriors, those of the first to arrive, turned to face the noise.

Teeth gritted, its blood shot eyes took the carriers in as though seeing them for the first time. 

It hefted its weapon and strode towards them. 

Sanetoch’s grin fell away as the Astartes warrior charged forward igniting it’s weapon in a roar of fury. 

Sanetoch yelled in dismay as in a shower of sparks it crashed it’s weapon against the hull of the carrier, rending the plating there. 

“In the Name of the Emperor we cleanse this city of it’s taint.” The warrior cried, driving the weapon forward.

“We are of the Emperor’s flock! We are untainted!” Sanetoch yelled back, his voice almost pleading.

The warrior ignored him. 

“We are loyal, we are loyal!” Vasnov shouted joining his friends protestations. 

They could only watch as the hull began to give way, its internals spilling to the street as the warrior tore it apart. 

“Enough of this!” Commanded a voice from their right, as a second of the Astartes strode into view. It was one of those other Blue armoured warriors. 

“Enough I said.” He called, moving forward to grip the other’s shoulder armour. 

Sanetoch and Vasnov stared in disbelief as the first marine elbowed the hand away and continued to tear into the carrier. 

The Blue armoured marine growled in anger. 

“I said cease.” It roared, shouldering the other marine away from his weapon and the carrier. 

The two faced each other.

Both grimaced in anger before the first snarled and charged forward causing a furious exchange of blows to be exchanged until a third, unarmed Astartes in the pale green armour of the savage warriors struck the blue forcefully from behind knocking him to the ground, more punches rained down onto the prone warrior, though he refused to concede the fight.

It was then that the thunder crack of a Bolter round split the air, everyone turned to the source of the shot. 

A second of the blue armoured warriors, in ornate armour, standing beside another powerful marine in pale green trimmed with gold, stood bolter aimed to the sky. 

“What is the meaning of this? Is this how the Emperor’s Cleavers respect their allies?” Called the warrior in blue. 

Silent stares greeted his words. 

Finally the second of the newcomers broke the tense silence. 

“Astoroff, Gorax submit yourselves to the Talon, explain to him my displeasure and await your punishment.” He said quietly before one of the marines removed his weapon from the shell of the carrier and followed his unarmed brother away from the prone form of the blue armoured warrior who lay unconscious before the APC. 

“My apologies Captain, this simple transgression will be punished, please convey my apologies to your warrior. Though I agree with my brothers, perhaps these humans should be killed, there is a risk of taint.” 

The Captain, as addressed by the other, gritted his teeth in anger then signalled two of his men to help their brother to his feet. “That will not be necessary, there has been enough blood spilled by the people of Soliban, the survivors will be needed to rebuild their cities. Their productivity is vital to the Imperium,” The Green armoured warrior raised an eye brow at this. 

“As I was made to understand by the inquisitor, this world is of vital importance.” 

The Green nodded. “Very well then they will be your responsibility, Rainbow Warrior. Any problems they cause, the blame will lie squarely at your feet.”

With that he turned and followed his brethren away from the scene.

Finally the Captain turned to face the stunned survivors, his helmeted visage displayed on the wide view screen betraying no sign of his intentions. Finally he spoke.

“I apologise for what has transpired here. Your purity is not in doubt, I hope my comrades actions have not warped your view of us. We are here to defend you and we will do so to the utmost of our ability, we will purge the taint from your city.” 

Vanetov laughed nervously. ”That is what your comrade said before he tried to kill us.” 

“A regrettable incident, my ally was, “ he paused as though looking for the right word. “Overzealous.” 

He pointed to a massive carrier, one of the famed Astartes land Raiders. “Follow brother Vostine, he will lead you back to the Judge district where your men will be given the chance to join in the campaign to purge this city.” 

With that the marine moved off, not waiting to hear their response, confident and used to being heeded, it did not occur to him that they would follow any other course of action. 

“He does not waste any words does he?” Commented Sanetoch. 

Vasnov grinned at his words. 

“We aren’t going anywhere in this wreck, we better dismount and join the others.” Sanetoch said finally, “Looks like we are gonna get the chance to end this once and for all.”


----------



## dark angel

Awesome update, I thought this had been forgotten about  However I am glad to see I was wrong, keep it up


----------



## the_unchanged

*Part 9*

Namacuix stared at the holo-display before them. All around him stood the defenders of Soliban, those who led the in the campaign to defend this capital city, those who hoped to end the Hostile threat that was overwhelming them. 

To Namcuix’s right stood the High Judge Pilonius, master of the arbite contingent. Beside him, the Lord Commander of the PDF, a fellow named Totav, who had the misfortune of following in the footsteps of the much maligned Golbur Vass. 

In the centre of the wide table, directly facing him sat the hunched form of the Lord Governor Arken Phlebas, a man who had definitely seen better days. His hunched shoulders seemingly carrying the fate of this world upon them. 

To his Left was the Arch Bishop of the Eccliarschy, an obscenely fat man who’s name escaped Namacuix, a situation he didn’t care to rectify for Arch Bishop was preening fop, the kind of man any warrior would detest. Finally hidden behind the Bishops huge entourage loomed the tall, gaunt figure of Kondal Vastek, the leader of this worlds Astropaths. 

All around the chamber bustled the forms of dozens of minor dignitaries and officers of various ranks, busying themselves with the task of nursing the weakened defences. 

None of the leaders spoke, they simply stared nervously at the imposing form of the Astartes who towered before them, as they waited for the arrival of the Inquisitor and her retinue. 

Namacuix rose, lifting his clenched fists from the tactical desk, anger flushed upon his face. He too would wait for their arrival to speak though, he did not like repeating himself. 

Finally the Inquisitor swept into the room, followed by orinir and the hulking form of Brothgaar. 

Namacuix waited patiently for her to take her place. Finally she nodded for him to begin. 

It would not be the tactical report she was expecting. 

“Who is in charge of this mess?” He looked at each of the rulers in turn. “ I was under the impression that those responsible for the weak command of the defence forces had been executed.”

They all nodded dumbly in reply, all except Totav, his stern face betraying nothing, only Phlebas had the temerity to reply. 

“They were executed by the Inquisitor immediately following her review, perhaps you’d like to explain where you are going with this?” His powerful voice spoke out, surprising in its verbosity. 

“Where I am going with this,” Namacuix replied eyes fixed firmly on the Inquisitor, “is that there is a glaringly obvious question to be answered.” 

He pointed to the Holo display.

“Why, when the supposed problems in command have been removed, are the defences still so thinly stretched with hundreds of thousands of civilians left to fend for themselves?” 

“We have done everything we can but without the man power we cannot protect every one.” it was the High Judge who answered., his voice sounding anything but confident to the Astartes ear. 

Namacuix shook his head. “But you do have the manpower, you have the man power to protect a tighter area, an area such as the manufoctorum sector, should you move as much of the population there as possible. Then with a more concentrated defence you could hold off the horde indefinitely.” 

A collection of outraged murmurs issued forth from the gathered officers. 

“Impossible, we cannot give up the old quarter, I would not see my own cathedral undefended to fall into the hands of those….those beasts.” the Arch Bishop called out, before coughing into a silk handkerchief. 

“Agreed, the holdings of the main merchant princes would be sacked, the Governor’s palace itself would be compromised.” cried Arken.

Namacuix could see a look of consternation pass across the face of the Inquisitor. 

“Enough of this.” Namacuix roared, silencing them. “You all serve the people of this world. How many of those you serve must die to protect the foolish self interests that you hold more important than your duty?”

The Inquisitor raised her hand. “These questions are irrelevant.” 

Namacuix glared at her, his anger was getting the better of him once more, the pampered fools around him were clouding his judgement with their stupidity. “Irrelevant? Perhaps if you had afforded stronger control-”

“I will not tolerate being interrupted Astartes.” She stared him down. “It is irrelevant because the rulers of this world will now fall directly under your control. I will cede command of the defence of this city, and as a result, this world, to you Captain. As of now any command you give will be as though uttered by the Emperor Himself and should be followed to the utmost. Those who fail to do so, will receive the same punishment as Vass.” 

The threat hung in the air for several seconds, before the Governor finally spoke. 

“As you command my Lady.” He inclined his head in a bow, knowing, as a wise ruler should, when to back down.

“Now if that will be all, I will take my leave. Orinir and Brothgaar will remain to co ordinate the new defence plan with you.” 

Namacuix nodded as she turned away, striding towards the portal entrance. 

He watched her back until she left the room, then turned once more to face the men before him, who were all now looking suitably paler following the inquisitor’s remarkable threat.

“The Arch Bishop will organise his flock to be moved into the Factorium sector, as well as organising a way of getting word to the surviving population from outside the Old Quarter.” 

The Obese fop actually looked like he might have an apoplexy, he coughed heavily into his handkerchief once more to hide his rage, lifting his left hand in a tilting fashion to show his agreement. 

“Lord Vastek, perhaps you could assist the Arch Bishop in his task? I would also ask that you try to regain contact with any outlying townships and your two sister cities.” 

The gaunt figure of the astropath bowed, before turning to follow the waddling form of the Arch Bishop and his dozen strong retinue, out of the room. 

That left only the military powers of the city, two thirds of the inquisitorial retinue and the Governor himself. Namacuix strolled round the room to stand beside the Governor’s throne. 

“My Lord, I intend to do my duty to the utmost of my ability, but I will not tolerate any indecision on your part. My men will risk their lives for you but it will not be for nothing, you will move your government centre to the new location and begin emergency procedures to ensure all of your people are supplied to the best of your ability.” 

The Governor simply sighed and nodded, knowing to respond otherwise would be folly.

“I shall take my leave now then, the High Judge will accompany me, it seems I will need the support of his arbites in ensuring this move goes smoothly and that your orders are followed to the letter Lord Astartes.” 

Namacuix was loathe to allow the Arbites Judge to go with out some sort of retribution for his part in this debacle, the man would be on the front lines making up for the pointless sacrifices of so many of his men if it was up to the Young Captain, but as it stood he could see the rationality behind the Lord Governor’s request. 

“Very well.” He replied quietly as the Governor rose and the Judge moved to follow. “Orinir will join you to ensure the job is done correctly.” Both the Judge and the Governor shot venomous looks at him for this but Namacuix couldn’t care less, it was time the fools learned what their true duties were. The old Orator followed in their trail a resigned look upon his face. 

That left Namacuix, Brothgaar and Totav to deal with the real task of re aligning the city defences. 

He turned to Brothgaar first. “The deficiencies in the defences of this city were apparent to me from the start why then, did you say nothing High Claw? As Astartes surely it was your duty to point out such weakness.”

A look flashed across the face of his ally then, that cemented the feeling within Namacuix that this warrior was no brute, for it was a look of shame, though it appeared for only the briefest flash and was soon replaced by a scowl, it was unmistakeable. 

“It was not my place, Rainbow Warrior, I am here simply at the Inquisitor’s request, we do as we are ordered and no more. We are here to kill the enemies of the Imperium, not to shepherd the PDF troopers in their tasks.” 

Namacuix felt his anger rise at the warrior’s words though his curiosity regarding the High Claws confusing demeanour stopped him from biting back with a curt response.. 

“Perhaps this is irrelevant now?“ Both marines turned angry stares to the PDF Commander, though the soldiers eyes were lowered to prevent them meeting the marines, it was probably the only thing giving him the courage to continue on. 

“I do not mean to interrupt you my Lord Astartes but I was hoping that this meeting would be completed with all haste, my people are dying and I would hope that with your assistance we could prevent this from continuing. All I have heard from those beside has been talk, I hap hoped that the Astartes of the Emperor would place more emphasis on actions rather than words.”

Both Astartes looks softened immediately as the young warrior spoke, for he was referring to something they both understood, duty. Namacuix’s estimation of the man had just risen considerably, helping to soften his anger at the idiocy of Totav’s peers. 

“I know I do not have the power of your kind but I will use everything at my disposal to end this threat to my people, even if it means dying in the attempt. The PDF have played far too big a part in this tragedy and I intend to make amends for that.”

Brothgaar nodded. “Wise words Commander, I admire your courage, for few would speak so openly before us.” 

Namacuix eyed the Cleaver wearily, noticing the mask dropping once more and yet again wishing for the presence of Ictlan, his brother having an excellent ability in reading both people and Astartes, a skill that he himself had lost in his post humanity. For all his powers as an Astartes, he still found things within which he had a weakness. 

“I agree, we could learn a great deal from you Commander. Your adherence to your duty is an example that puts even the Emperor’s own Astartes to shame.” Namacuix broke into a grin as he finished hoping to put the Commander at ease. 

It seemed to work as the young warrior seemed to positively beam at the praise thrown his way. 

“Perhaps we should begin,” he continued as the holo display behind him morphed into a view of the city, “ The Blue pips here show the deployment of my own troops, the Green are Brothgaar’s, the Yellow are of course your own.” 

He turned to point at a gathered mass of red blips on the outskirts of the city. “These are the presumed positions of the Hostiles.”

The Commander nodded pointing to the plain behind them. “This is where my troops found the highest concentration of them ,they seem to be gathering on the plains, the com traffic from our Sister cities before they broke down, agree with this.”

Brothgaar nodded as he contemplated the display. “It seems your decision to deploy your scouts out with the city limits has been validated Captain. I had hoped to locate the source of this infection within the city but the evidence points to the plains.” 

Namacuix was glad Brothgaar had come to this conclusion, it had taken some heavy coaxing to persuade the Emperor’s Cleaver to allow some of his men to join the scouting forces out o the plain. 

He returned his attention to the Commander of the PDF. “One thing that I have not been briefed on is why the PDF numbers are so low, even the additional numbers from the other cities do not equate to what I expected them to be.”

The Commanders face lowered, and he nodded sadly. “This world is a shadow of its former self, indeed the entire system is too. We were once the thriving capital world of a farming and mining cartel, providing the sustenance for a wide swathe of this sector.” He paused to wipe sweat from his brow, 

“However we were invaded by Greenskins almost a century ago, causing a decade long war of attrition, now referred to as the Heroes war, all of our economies, our peoples, our governments were ceded to the military. We finally succeeded in driving them off but we never recovered. Millions dead, worlds razed, now only Soliban Prime remains, a wraith world only valuable due to its mining wealth, now centred around the three remaining cities, though not valuable enough to be re settled.”

He paused once more as he checked that he still had their attention. 

“We maintained Garrisons but we never anything more than glorified arbites, occasionally dealing with greenskin spore yields off planet, however we were held with a kind of awe as most of us were descendants of the ‘Heroes’, those brave men and women who had fought with a power borne of desperation, finally ending the greenskin threat.”

He continued on. “It was foolish, the power we gained on that reputation meant more and more of the ‘Chosen’ were drafted regardless of actual skill. The PDF became elitist and less and less people were allowed to conscript, the Governor tried to change this and one of his drafts allowed people such as myself to enter the ranks but we were marginalised and the Governor suffered for his power play.”

“The people of Soliban paid a heavy toll for our mistakes. The hostiles began to appear in small numbers at first but soon they came in their hundreds, with our low numbers we were barely able to cope.”

He leaned forward placing his open palms onto the tactical desk. 

“It was then that Vass organised his master plan, gathering the PDF in their thousands, he drew the Hostiles into a bottle neck, pushing them onto the firing lines of his waiting troops.”

He shook his head then, even an Astartes such as Namacuix could read the regret etched upon his face then. 

“He did not plan for what came next. With their backs to the cemetery of Heroes they could not know of the danger. Thousands of those noble fallen buried within the cemetery literally rose from their graves, they fell upon the defenders like encroaching death upon the mortally wounded. Hundreds of the defenders literally froze in the face of their dead heroes. It was a slaughter, we lost half of our number that day. Worse, the cities out with the capital had sent the majority of their forces to help in the attempt, the numbers are now even thinner than here as a result. Luckily it seems the majority if the attacks are centered around the capital, preventing them from being overwhelmed”

Namacuix listened intently, knowing it was always better to hear a tactical appraisal straight from the mouth of one who was amongst the fighting. 

“What are the numbers we face? Have your scouts ascertained that?” Queried Brothgaar. 

“No, this world is little more than a cemetery, where the dead outnumber the living by millions to one, if they are all affected……well then we have faced only a minute part of a larger whole.”

“If their numbers are greatest on the plain then the source of the threat must be located there. The scouts will triangulate a firing solution and then the SkyBridge will scour the majority of them from the face of this planet, “ He clicked a button on the console in front of him and the area where the red blips was most condensed magnified, “Then a combined strike force will assault the source before mopping up anything that remains. Emperor willing we can do this with a limited loss of civilian life.” 

Both Brothgaar and Totav seemed content with this plan of action, though for the next hour or so they continued to thrash out the details until Namacuix was interrupted by a report from the front lines. He excused himself from the conversation and stepped to the side. He listened intently as Xilonen fed him intel from the front, relaying reports from each of the Companies forces. 

Namacuix’s face turned sour as his second finished up. 

Brothgaar looked up as he re approached the desk.

“Problems?” 

The Captain ignored him. “Commander Tatov, my second has just informed me that a large train of armed civilians are being brought here, I believe you may find the extra hands useful?”

Totav nodded, sensing a tension in the Warriors stance. “Perhaps I will personally inspect these civilians and see to their supplies and ammo being replenished, my men could definitely use the moral boost reinforcements would give them. Gentlemen.” 

He saluted smartly, which Namacuix returned, Brothgaar did not, he watched the Captain warily obviously noting the same tension that Totav had. The Commander turned sharply and marched from the room several of the officers milling around the room, moving to join him. 

Brothgaar rose from the desk. “Im assuming you wish to discuss something with me?”

Namacuix turned his armoured form bristling. “As a fellow Astartes and Ally I will not insult your intelligence by pretending that I am not angered.”

Brothgaar nodded. “Very well, carry on.” 

“My Second has just informed me that one of my men was assaulted by two of your Cleavers.” 

Brothgaar remained silent until Namacuix growled. 

“Throne damn your silence Cleaver. Ever since our arrival you’ve pushed and prodded, resisted any attempt at cordiality, The Rainbow Warriors are not here as rivals to the Cleavers and yet you treat us as such and I would know why!”

Brothgaar simply stared at him, his teeth gritted in obvious rage but it did not seem to be aimed at the marine before him. 

“Sometimes we must wander off of the beaten path trodden before us by our honourable and dutiful forefathers and stalk the darkness among those monsters and daemons who we would destroy.”

“I do not understand-”

Brothgaar shook his head. “No you do not and I hope that you never do, for there is nothing more challenging for a creature borne of duty and honour than becoming the monsters it stalks.” He moved round Namacuix. “My men will be punished for what happened and the others will be warned off doing the same in the future. I cannot promise cordiality but the hostility will stop as of now. If they do not like that well to the Maelstrom with them.” 

He then turned for the exit. “If the briefing is finished then I shall excuse myself. My men must be debriefed and your orders must be relayed.” 

With that he left, leaving Namacuix with more questions than answers, foremost of which was the they Brothgaar referred to. Could it be the Inquisitions orders? Could they still be testing his Chapter’s loyalty by pitting them against the cleavers to see their reaction? 

Namcuix massaged his temples with his fingers, all this thinking was giving him a dull ache that did not look like it would disappearing any time soon. 

He had enough problems holding his chapter together without these new external pressures that now seemed to be building. 

His vox signalled and he activated. 

“Namacuix.” 

“My Lord,“ it was Autemoc, “please return to the SkyBridge as soon as possible, something has occurred. _His face has turned_.” 

The Last sentence was a code he and the others within his small group had devised and hearing it made his blood run cold, something was happening on board the Sky Bridge and he knew he wasn’t going to like it. 

“I will return as soon as I have informed the Inquisitor of my intention to do so. Namacuix out.” He sighed heavily feeling the weight that most assuredly borne down on the Governor’s shoulders earlier now burden his own.


The Seven figures stood facing each other, the silver gilt masks covering their faces bisected by an orange cross. Hooded cowls hung low over their brows and the long capes they adorned covered every inch of their body armour hiding their rank markers and honour badges; preventing anyone from identifying them, not even each other. 

“It is done?” Spoke one. 

“The fools were infected easily enough but they gave up little, we still know nothing of this secret project the purans covet.” Replied a second. 

“The others will suspect nothing, but it is paramount that we end this before it begins.” Called out a third. 

“Everything precedes as it should.” Spoke a fourth, this one by the tone of his voice and the small black cross adorning the larger red cross upon his helmet, was the authority figure and the others quickly fell silent as he spoke. 

“This chapter will succumb to the tide and the order shall guide its hand, when all have been consumed and we give ourselves fully, only then will this chapter be born anew. We are the order of the fiery cross and the Emperor himself will greet us at his right hand when the time of fire comes.”

“We are the Emperor’s Chosen tools, through us the Galaxy will burn and in that burning be cleansed.” Called out the others in reply. 

The sound of footsteps on the marble floor broke the cadence as an eighth figure entered the Chamber. 

“What of the boy? The one who strives to see the divisions we have worked so hard to create mended. What of those that follow him?” Called out the Newcomer. “Will he be dealt with as the Lord Commander was?”

The fourth turned, tension and rage showing in his stance. “Bifrost will succumb in time, only sheer will power keeps the tide at bay, already it consumes him. He seeks only war and glory, the concerns of those outside the Rosians forgotten. He will not pose a problem.”

“and the boy?” queried the newcomer, probing the fourth once more. 

“He will be dealt with too, I shall see to that when the time is right, as for his allies, they are weak and few in number, their time is already fast approaching. “

Behind his mask, the newcomer grinned a lipless smile. 

_Everything is proceeding as exactly as I hoped, he thought, even the order, those who seek to manipulate the Chapter are themselves trapped within the web of my devising. Soon my brothers will all follow in my footsteps. 
_
“Then all is indeed proceeding as planned.” With that he bowed turning once more to march out of the chamber leaving the conspiracy behind him.


----------



## the_unchanged

Its a bit rough so any grammar problems pointed out would be greatly appreciated.


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part*

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

INQUISITORIAL INTELLIGENCE CONTAINED WITHIN
RESTRICTED CLEARANCE
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY
*

*CLASSIFICATION:* Tertiary Level communique
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 3.3
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Orinir Koss, Field Interrogator, Ordo Hereticus
*SUBJECT:* Appraisal
*RECIPIENT:* Dashiel Lotan, Inquisitor Lord Ordo Hereticus


My Lord Inquisitor,
All goes according to plan, though we have discovered an anomaly within the leadership of the Rainbow Warriors, the esteemed Chapter Commander has not arrived instead he found it best to send his Second. 

So far this has not affected our plans, though Cotillion has decided we should tread carefully. As always the Butchers continue to play their role, they continue to commit themselves to being useful tools for our most esteemed organisation. 

As for our target, there has been little next no evidence of his location or activities, we will find him and when we do, you will be the first to know. 

As always I bask in the light of your Glory and our never ending task to rid the Imperium of Darkness. 

Your Servant always, 

Orinir.


__________________________________________________________________




*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

Purge after Reading 
*
*CLASSIFICATION:* Primary Level Communique
*CLEARANCE:* Obsidian Ultra
*ENCRYPTION:* Cryptox v 6.6
*DATE:* 339.M41
*AUTHOR:* Operative codename - Bishop
*SUBJECT:* Strange Gambit, altered pieces 
*RECIPIENT:* Operative codename - The Player

The Player, 

The Bishop proceeds as planned, though altered pieces exist in place of those we expected. Altered piece saw through our ruse with clarity, he will be one to watch. No sign of taint as of yet. 

Bishop expects Opponent to make his presence felt as pieces move towards his suspected stronghold, Opponent will be denied and Knight will be brought to heel.

Control will be maintained at all costs.

I will not fail,

Bishop

__________________________________________________________________




“Your sure this is the location?” Growled the Cleaver as he sniffed the air once more. “The last time we fought them, I could smell their stink from miles away.” 

He leaned back against a large boulder surveying the landscape once more. 

“The last received intel places them here, and several thousand strong at that,” replied Duatl, the scout sergeant surveyed the Auspex once more. 

“Yet there’s not a single sign of them.” Snarled the Cleaver as he hefted his chain glaive, inspecting the weapons readiness. “Typical, Argoth and I are assigned to the only foolish squad of Rainbow Warriors who manages to avoid the action.”

“Argoth?” Commented Duatl without looking up. 

In reply the Cleaver thumbed the ignition stud on his weapon, allowing it to purr into life before dying once more.

“Here comes one of your hounds,” called the Cleaver as one of the squad’s young scouts approached.

“Fromaar, in the interest of civility, I recommend you do not insult my men any further, I would hate to have to hand you a new honour scar.” 

The Cleaver merely scowled in reply, though Duatl’s enhanced hearing picked out the sly whisper that followed. 

_“It would take you and all your pups….”_

“Find anything?” Duatl called out to the scout as he closed with them, turning his attention away from the sullen uncooperative marine.

“Nothing my Lord,” answered the scout. “ we are spread out over nearly fifty kiloms and there’s no signs of anything out there.”

Duatl shook his head, he was becoming irritated by the lack of action and the Cleaver was becoming a constant thorn in his side, questioning his every order. He hoped there would be something to take his frustrations out on soon, otherwise the tensions between them would come to boiling point. 

He gazed out onto the plain once more. 

“They have to be out there somewhere.” His eyes followed the horizon where the lush greenery met the turquoise, cloudless sky. The grasslands only broken where the murky red of the clay lake wallowed. The plains themselves offered no cover and though Duatl had heard of the Hostiles rising from the ground, he had yet to learn of any who had tunnelled their way back. 

His mind was still mulling it over, when he caught sight of something glinting at the far side of the lake, he lifted his mags towards his face when the first peel of distant thunder rung out.

“Bolter fire.” Exclaimed the scout beside him. 

“Contact!” Came a cry over the comms and before Duatl could order the others to react they were already charging over the plains. 

“Report.” Replied the Sergeant as he ran. 

“Fifteen clicks to your south west, on the north side of the lake, Hostiles, hundreds of them. Please advise.” 

He answered the query as he charged after the others. “Fall back, pattern omega Dorn. Kill as many as you can, we will be with you in a moment.”

As the three marines neared the lake shore they were greeted by the sight of the scouts being swamped by a huge number of Hostiles, the beasts shambling forward from the lake shore to fall upon the scouts positions. 

“There coming from the lake.” Yelled Fromaar as he closed with them, igniting his weapon and swinging it forward to lay into the beasts, even as they crawled forth from the lapping waves. 

Duatl and the scout rushed forward in his wake, firing their bolt pistols as they lobbed flak grenades into the middle of the bunched foe. 

Gouts of flames flashed forward to cook Hostile flesh, one of the scouts wielding the specialist weapon with expert care, while bolter fire shredded them in their hundreds. 

Fromaar growled, as he continued to hack into the seemingly endless tide. 

He turned to the scout wielding the flamer unit. 

“Give me your tank,” he called, before lashing out with his blade once more to give himself some room. The scout shot a look at his Sergeant, who simply nodded. 

The scout removed the bulky promethium filled tank, disengaging it from the igniter, before he tossed it to the Cleaver. 

Fromaar caught it in one hand even as he swung his chain glaive into the horde pushing towards him. He roared once before launching it into the air above the shore of the lake, then with the same hand, he unholstered his bolt pistol and fired off a single round. 

Duatl watched as the bolt round connected with the tank, bursting it and showering the lake in burning promethium. 

The liquid flames spread quickly engulfing the northern shore and all of the Hostiles still emerging from it. 

Duatl looked towards the Cleaver trying to catch his attention and offer thanks for his actions but the huge warrior was too engaged in his bloody task, tearing into the horde with great abandon, his brutal chain glaive swinging in figures of eight, slicing limbs from torsos and tearing the enemy to shreds. 

“Into them.” He cried as he charged forward to join his fellow marine in close combat, behind him his scouts waded in. 

Hostiles, still moving forward even though their flesh had literally cooked and their bones had charred, met their charge in silence as few of them had any lungs left to issue breath, never mind sound. 

“For the Emperor!” Cried the Cleaver before uttering a wicked laugh, as he crushed the face of a hostile with the pommel of his weapon. 

The scouts fought around the hulking marine their faces locked in grimaces, their feelings did not mirror the Cleaver’s, this was a bloody thankless task and there was no honour in such mindless slaughter. 

Duatl spun as something burst from the lake to fly past him in a blur of motion. To his left one of his scouts and several Hostiles suddenly dropped to the ground, he was shocked to see that the scout’s body was not in one piece and that bright red blood mixed with the murky brown of the Hostiles.

Something dark and metallic snapped through the air and only the scout sergeant’s superhuman reflexes prevented him from becoming another of its victims. He looked up to see a long thin chain suspended in the air, following it to its source, he found himself staring at something familiar, something impossible. 

“Xonia…” He whispered.

It was massive, easily the size of a Dreadnought and it rose from the lake like some leviathon from Tonalian myth, emerging from an ancient primordial sea of flames. 

Its armour bulky and angular was the colour of a starless void and it soaked up what little light remained of the dusk sky. Promethium flames licked and spat from several points of its angular form and yet it seemed unaffected, or worse, uncaring. It climbed forward onto the shore crushing Hostiles with every step.

“I will bring the Emperor’s Light even unto the darkest void!” Screamed Duatl as he charged forward to meet the new threat.

“Jaguar’s target the armour forms! Concentrate your fire on them,” he called out to his squad as he ran. “show them what it is to face the Verdants.”

His men roared in response, their bolters answered the call too, round after round connecting with the new threat, tearing chunks from its armour and forcing it back. 

Duatl shouldered several Hostiles away from him, stamping out to crush the torso of another as the Armour form finally succumbed. A howl went up from the Astartes as they soaked in their victory.

It was to be short lived however as more chained weapons burst from the lake, each cutting down huge swathes of burning hostiles before terminating in the bodies of several of the scout squad. 

Duatl roared in anguish as he watched his young charges die, opening up with his bolt pistol, he aimed for the chains that connected the weapons to the armour forms, two rounds finding their mark while the third evaded his range. 

Even as he moved forward to aim again, it retracted, dragging a blade the size of a fully armoured marine, back to its owner. 

He heard a throaty roar and turned to find Fromaar engaging two of the beasts as they emerged from the lake, raising his mighty chain glaive, the Cleaver clambered over the dying form of the first even as he killed it, to engage the second. The Cleaver swung a thunderous two handed blow up into the part of the torso where Duatl assumed the head would be, even as the beast lashed out with a mighty kick.

Duatl grimaced as both blows landed and the two combatants were thrown apart, he then ignited his own chainsword, using it to clear a path to the titanic struggle. 

It was time to show the Cleaver how the Rainbow Warriors fought. 


Diflaus watched as the Sergeant charged forward through a mass of shambling Hostiles to join the hulking Cleaver in combat with the Armour forms, he watched as Divorn and Taron were swallowed by a hundred strong horde of Hostiles. 

He listened to their dying screams even as he killed the last of the Hostiles surrounding him, pummelling a one into a pulpy mess with his bolt pistol. 

He fell back surveying his wounds, marvelling at the fortitude of his newly enhanced body, as he gazed upon the horrific wounds to his flesh.

He loaded up a fresh clip and cleaned some of the chunks of gore from his blade, while trying to pick out the best route to join up in support of his Sergeant. 

He noted the point where the numbers of Hostiles was thinnest and ran forward screaming the name of the Emperor. 


Duatl sprinted up over the first fallen armour form and launched himself into the air, firing what remained of his pistol ammo, each shot stinging the enemy before him, then, using the momentum of his drop to enhance it, he swung a blow that struck the Armour forms ruptured torso in a shower of sparks. 

He landed only seconds before the lifeless husk of his enemy landed in front of him. He then turned to see how the Cleaver fared. 

Fromaar’s face was contorted in a shout of warning and it was then that Duatl realised his mistake. Indescribable pain blossomed in is chest and he felt his legs give way. 


Diflaus reached his Lord even as the Sergeant dropped to the ground before him, his chest a ruptured mess where the tip of the gigantic blade had punched through. The scout cradled the dying form of his Lord. 

“My Lord what are your orders?” He asked anxiously. 

Duatl coughed a gobbet of blood, looking at his chest in deep regret, unable to convey the loss he felt at not only the loss of his imperial eagle but also the geneseed that nestled below it. He looked up pleadingly at the Scout trying to pass something to him. 

Diflaus never found out what it was as a shadow passed over him, the Cleaver arrived before him. Using his powerful form to block a chained blade even as it raced toward the prone form of the Sergeant and the scout cradling him. Fromaar grunted as it glanced past his body, tearing a massive chunk of flesh from his side, he spun gripping the chain and drove his blade through it. 

The Cleaver turned back to the young scout and the dying Sergeant, reaching up he unclipped his helmet and threw it forward for the young Scout to catch. 

“Take this to your Lord and the Inquisitor they must know of this new threat, the pict recordings stored within will provide them with all that they’ll need to counteract it.” 

The scout hesitated, glancing nervously once more at his dying Lord.

“Go!” Snarled the Cleaver pushing the young scout away, who nodded and turned away sprinting at full pelt. 

Fromaar dropped to a crouch before Duatl, taking the hand the older warrior offered in a firm grip. 

“May the Emperor’s light guide you to his halls my brother.” He whispered. 

Duatl nodded weakly, before offering up his other hand. Fromaar grinned as he saw what he held within it. 

He held the older warriors grip even as he felt it weaken and begin to slip away. 

“It shall be done my ally.” 

He rose to his feet as the massive form of the enemy loomed up behind him, he turned to face it even as it swept him up in it’s massive grip, crushing him and breaking his back. 

“Emperor forgive us for what we did.” He whispered weakly, before spitting a gobbet of blood into the front plate of the beast. 

The creature tightened its grip, crushing his ribs and back further. 

Fromaar barely grunted at the pain inflicted upon him before grinning a bloody, teeth filled smile. Opening his palm he held up what the Sergeant had given him. 

“My Father, my Creator, I come to seek your judgemen-” 

He never finished the statement as the melta grenade he held exploded annihilating everything within a ten metre radius.


----------



## dark angel

As always, this is very cool. I must admit I think this gets better with every new part you post, thus I shall look forward to the next instalment


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part*

_Captain,

The situation upon the SkyBridge is becoming unbearable, the Amarills and the Anarans are close to open warfare for bodies of their men were found in open combat upon the decks of the Sky Bridge and it has stoked the fires of hostility between them. Blood has been spilled Namacuix, only Tonuauc’s Purans keep the peace and even they are beginning to rail against this duty. 

Ocelotl suspects foul play, as both of those who died were part of our coalition, I myself am not so sure, for who would wish open warfare between our Chapter brothers? 

I had hoped your arrival would stem the flow of these problems but the current predicament planetside has deprived us of such a reassuring measure. I hope that you now will be able to provide us with guidance, for I fear that soon this problem will reach breaking point. 

I await your reply my Lord, 

Autemoc.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brother,

I have continued to watch as you asked, I cannot lie the situation is worsening here, the loss of your leadership has corroded any progress previously made by your coalition. Autemoc does his best but it is obvious he is struggling and as for Ocelotl, he sees conspiracy around every corner.

I walk among your Chapter Brothers and I am ignored, for their anger is reserved only for each other, something is wrong here my Brother and I believe only you can counter it. 

Your Brothers need your help, please do not let them down. 

Ictlan. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Azul, 

The deaths of the Anaran and the Amarill are the work of others, all is not as it seems, I intend to inspect the bodies, perhaps the evidence I seek will be found there.

O.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Lord Captain,

Your orders have been received and have been relayed, your will is mine to prosecute.

The Amarills have accepted your request. 

The Targeting solutions have also been registered. 

There is something else I must warn you of. 

He comes. 


Emperor shed his light on your endeavours. 

Autemoc.
_
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Namacuix stared at the hand written communiqués before him, eyeing each in turn and soaking in the information they presented. Each of his closest confidents warning him of the pressure building upon the Fortress Monastery. 

He stared at one sentence in particular, one from Autemoc’s second correspondance.

‘He comes.’

Was he ready for such an arrival? Would their plans be ruined by it? 

It was another problem for him to pile upon his already substantial heap, bitterness stung at his thoughts. 

He raised his head and returned his attention to the Pict screen. 

Viewing it for the hundredth time, he watched the gruesome drama play out before him, unable to tear his eyes away, as his fledgling brothers were torn apart by the weapons of the archaic armour forms. 

He grimaced as he saw Duatl, veteran even when Namacuix was first inducted, die in the arms of his scout, his lifeblood pouring from the hole in his chest. 

He surveyed the powerful movements of the Armour forms, taking in their power and running through how he would counter them, even as the pict was terminated by the noble actions of the Cleaver. 

The anger he had felt as he had first watched the recording had yet to subside and still he smouldered with rage, the scout who had brought the helmet had reported through rasping breath, the loss of the entire scout squad and the noble sacrifice of the Cleaver. 

As soon as the scout had delivered the helm into his hands, the boy was half dead from his wounds; Namacuix had had to pry the thing from the young warriors grip, he had cancelled his return to the Skybridge and had begun to formulate a new plan. 

Within hours the site of the battle had been scoured, all clues had been gathered, remains of the enemy, what little there was left, disposed of and the spoor of the remaining enemy had been traced.

None of what they found was of any real help, however it was the location of the battle and the discovery of the enemies new shock troops which provided the breakthrough, Xilonen had spotted a pattern.

He saw what the others had failed to and it led them to the discovery of the Citadel, their quarry. The source of their problems and now place where they would end.

Namacuix had immediately called the council together, wishing to report this new threat and outline his plan of action.

As they had gathered, some such as Tatov and Orinir in person, Pilonius and Phlebas represented by floating holoforms, Namacuix had asked for a report from each in turn, how they fared, what assisstance was needed. 

Finally with the formalities done, Namacuix had stood before them and outlined his plan.

_‘The discovery of the Armour Forms has led us to the findings that the source of the threat to this world is located deep within the plains. A joint strike force of my men and Cleavers has discovered a vast citadel, it is here we believe the source originated from,’ he had pointed to the cartographers graph on the display.
‘it is here we will strike, first an orbital bombardment will scour the plains of the Hostiles forces gathered there, then a task force of my own and Brothgaar’s men will assault the citadel. This is our Quarry gentlemen and this is where this ends.’_

Everyone had merely listened as he spoke, most relieved that they would not be involved in the coming conflict, safe in the knowledge that the Astartes would be shouldering most of the burden. 

Only Totav and Cotillion, her silent form hidden among the shadows at the back of the room, had responded to his mention of the armour forms. Totav had later explained his knowledge of them had been limited to rumours from the plain patrols lost earlier in the campaign, it was Cotillion’s reaction that had caught Namacuix’s attention. 

Cotillion had known they were out there, the look on her face, hidden even as it was among the shadows had confirmed it for him, Cotillion knew more than she was letting on, worse she had seemed angry that Namacuix had prior knowledge of them. 

He had been torn from his ruminations as a civilian named Sanetoch, one of those saved by Xilonen at the wall Namacuix had then discovered, stepped forward querying what part he would play in this assault. 

The council had stiffened at such temerity, all eyes had turned to Tatov, for he was responsible for this stranger in their midst. The PDF commander had paled under such scrutiny, unsure of what to say, in the end it had been Namacuix himself who had broken the tension with a booming laugh. 

_“I apologise my Lord, we have not been introduced.” Namacuix had said, before turning to Tatov, who looked like the world might swallow him up. 

“I-I apologise my Lord Astartes, this is Militia Commander Sanetoch, he is the leader of the civilian force liberated by your men near the wall, I brought him here today as his forces account for nearly a third of my now active forces.” 

Namacuix had turned his attentions back to Sanetoch. “Your job my Lord, along with the PDF commander, will be to cleanse the city and protect our backs, your men have shed enough of their blood, I ask now that you leave this endeavour to my chapter.”

Sanetoch had merely smiled, before bowing, knowing when he had been dismissed._

He and Tatov had then shared a look that Namcuix read as disappointment, disppointment that they would not be there to end this. He almost felt shame at denying them the retribution they sought. 

He knew exactly how they felt.

The council had then dispersed to carry out his orders and the crusade had entered into its final stages. Soon it would be all over. 

If only everything else in his life was as simple as war.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

WOW!:victory::grin:... 

It's have been a long time since my nose touched the screen while reading a fanfic... Hahaha...

You have kept me on the edge... and for that REP!

And pls post the next chapter soon...


----------



## the_unchanged

*New post*

Namacuix clenched his fists and turned away from the view screen once more. 

His anger burned in his chest, he would have to speak to Cotillion. 

His men should have been warned, they should have been prepared for what they met on those plains. Cotillion should have prepared, them. 

Namacuix stood alone in the audience chamber, his massive form dwarfed by his surroundings. The weight of what was happening upon the SkyBridge played upon his mind, everything had seemed so simple when he had returned from the actions on voids edge, his course of action had been set he would unite his brothers and reignite their allegiance to the Imperium, why then was it now proving to be so much harder than he had envisioned. 

He thought back to the first contact he had with others of the Imperium, first contact in fact that any of his chapter had had in a very long time, other than those fleeting trysts with the Mechanicum of course. 

Bifrost had sent the Second on a routine mission to the Choris system, a fleet action, a thankless task designed to remove the upstart Azuls from underneath the feet of the Rosians. Namacuix had known this of course but then, he had been happy to remove his men from the tedium of inaction. 

It had begun with a fairly routine patrol, with only a boarding action on a corsair ship crewed by a mix of xenos and human reavers, the battle brief and frantic had exposed human cargo. The oddity of the discovery was quickly elevated when one of the captives claimed to be an interrogator of the Ordo Xenos. 

A frail, decrepit looking young fool, Xilonen had almost laughed in his face until the prisoner had held up his filth covered hand and exposed his electoo, a stylised I, an image that the Astartes recognised all too readily. 

With that the events quickly snowballed and the Second were forced to rendezvous with the Strike Cruiser ‘Argonaut’. It was there that he had found the first glimpses of the duty that his Chapter had for so long neglected, the duty of the Astartes to protect the Imperium and to serve mankind. He had met his brothers of the Space Sharks chapter only briefly and yet it had been enough to re kindle the fires of that duty within him; everything since that moment had been geared towards the realisation of that dream. The Rainbow Warriors and the Imperium would be reconciled, even if it took the lives of him and his men to do so. 

And yet already he was beginning to see the problems this reconciliation would cause, already he had been exposed to the lies and secrets that permeated his allies and their causes. Already unnecessary sacrifices were being made by his men. 

He clenched and unclenched his fists once more, breathing in deeply before exhaling loudly. Behind him he heard soft footsteps and knew that the confrontation he had been waiting for had arrived, he tensed his body and waited. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Cotillion watched the Brooding Giant as he stared at the view screen, he appeared to be deep in thought and it seemed he had taken the loss of his men harder than she had thought possible, sentimentality and compassion for others were not emotions she associated with these brutes. Perhaps these Astartes were not the unfeeling living weapons she had come to expect. 

The more she was forced to work with them the more they had the capacity to surprise her, she assumed she would find herself with more opportunities to study their behaviour under the current campaign her master had embarked on. 

A campaign that seemed destined to be consumed with the pursuit of flawed Chapters such as the Rainbow Warriors and it was now her duty to find that flaw, to expose it.

These Rainbow Warriors were more fascinating than most though, hidden on the edge of the Imperium, they had run alone for far too long, it was time for them to be brought to heel. 

Her Master has ensured her when she had first heard her orders that they were hiding something, that they had a secret, something that if she could find it, they could gain leverage and use it against this most secretive of chapters. 

So far she had found little of any worth, with even the rumours she had heard to be used as a basis, she could not find the evidence she needed. Her master would not be pleased. 

This was not the factor that was proving most elusive though. The primary target; the one she had been told was more important even than bringing the Astartes to heel, was proving as attainable as catching smoke in her hand. 

Codenamed: Revenant, her target was to all but a few he was just a man, another rogue wanted by His Majesty’s Holy Inquisition. 

_Just a man._

She almost sniggered at that, a single man, yet a man who was more of a threat to the stability of the Imperium than the myriad foes who impressed upon it’s borders. 

_Just a man._

Never had such a description been such an understatement. 

Her Master and his Master before him had hunted this man, yet few had ever even seen him with their own eyes. 

Cotillion had. It haunted her still.

She had been but a small child then when he had killed her world, this normal looking man, this person who she would have struggled to pick out from a crowd before he had killed everyone she had ever known. Only his eyes had given him away, she had never seen eyes like them, such sadness, such sorrow. 

She dreamt of them still. 

Her Master had found her after Revenant had killed her world, he had taken her because she had seen him with her own eyes and he had trained her. 

He trained her to become his hound, and he had fed her with the scent of the Revenant. 

Now he was here and she would find him, she would present his broken form before her Master, who even now travelled to this most cursed of worlds. 

She padded softly forward across the room, matters at hand would have to take precedent and the warrior before her would be the key to successfully completing both her objectives. She watched him warily as she approached. 

Yes, this one is the key.


----------



## the_unchanged

Cheers Waltz - heres the new update just for you mate!


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

Truly, I salute to your works and your ability to keep me on edge and intrigued... 

Cheers mate... I'll be expecting the upd8s soon... :victory:...


----------



## Templar Marshal

This is one that I've really enjoyed so far.Keep it up looking forward to the next update.:victory:


----------



## the_unchanged

Cheers Guys if you keep reading ill keep writing!

Next part up soon!


----------



## dark angel

You was not going to continue!? Gosh! Lol, nah serious, as always you have done excellent work, I await your next chapter with anticipation.


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part*

She was close enough now to hear the dull thrum of the Astartes power armour, warily she coughed as she entered his considerable shadow, his armoured bulk blocking out the light from the flickering pict screen in front of them. 

Though Namacuix had been aware of her presence for almost one hundred and ninety seconds, he had decided against acknowledging her until she herself engaged him. 

“Inquisitor,” he whispered with more softness than he felt. 

“Captain,” she replied, he noticed a slight tenseness of her voice, the subtle alteration in her breathing enough to show him that her body had switched to combat readiness.

_Did she fear him?_ He wondered.

He turned to face her. 

“Lady Cotillion,” he offered the sign of the Aquila, fingers splayed inwards as an extra sign of respect. Confusion momentarily played across her face but she returned the gesture in kind. “is there something I can assist you with? Perhaps clarify aspects of the briefing?”

She grimaced at his words, the briefing had been tense, with several topics arising that she had not expected. It had been strained enough in the beginning as she argued with the Captain over his proposal to simply scour the citadel with orbital bombardment, she had pointed out that although an assault on such a fortress would be risky, the psyker activity surrounding the area was more than enough reason for investigation, coupled with the fact it was the possible source of the Hostiles, it was impossible to ignore its probable importance. 

More importantly, it was almost certainly the location of the Revenant. 

Reluctant to sacrifice more men unnecessarily but seeing the sense in her argument Namacuix had sensibly backed down and immediately altered his plan. 

This was not the source of her current apprehension about the council however, that was reserved solely for the fact that Namacuix had recognised the Armour forms. This was disconcerting in the fact that only her Master and his retinue had had any recorded skirmishes with such creatures, severely worrying in the fact that the Armour forms were the tools of the Revenant, meaning the Rainbow Warriors had perhaps crossed paths with her target in the past. 

She sucked in a deep breath and tongued the back of her front teeth. 

“The Armour forms,” she said finally.

Namacuix nodded before turning away, he talked as he moved towards to the lectern “The one subject it appears we both have prior knowledge of,” he pressed a trigger on the console next to him and a close up of one of the armour forms was presented on the viewing screen, “knowledge that we seem to have neglected to inform each other of. Though perhaps one of us is more guilty than the other in that respect.” He still did not turn round.

She eyed his back warily, _what exactly was he aiming at?_

“Before I answer any questions you have, perhaps you would do me the courtesy of answering some of my own?” He turned to face her, then moved away from the console to stand before her, his imposing bulk filling her vision. 

She was becoming irritated by his game but she nodded all the same, “of course, please,” indicating for him to continue.

“You knew of the Armour forms and the possibility of their involvement in this theatre before I ordered my men to scout the plains, didn’t you?”

She nodded but kept her eyes upon him, “I will not lie to you Captain, I knew there was a possibility of their presence being felt upon this world, however it would have been pure conjecture on my part to include them in the intelligence for your briefing, possibly even remiss of me to do so. The knowledge would have altered your plans, perhaps making your actions on the field more conservative, that would have been the last thing we needed, the people of this world have bled enough, they needed your protection and they needed it as quickly and as effectively as you could provide it. This war had to be engaged with all expediency, there was no other way.”

“You make a sound argument my Lady, and I applaud your reasoning, the people of this world are the most important factor, none the less, your decision cost the lives of my men.”

“Acceptable losses,” she replied curtly, “your kind were created to protect the Imperium, to die in that duty should that be required.”

Namacuix stepped forward, anger flush upon his face. 

“And we will not hesitate to do so, never question that _my Lady_, however we will not die to protect your secrets. From now on you will inform me of anything, anything that will directly affect my decisions or the lives of my men.” 

_Or this alliance will be over_. He had left the words unsaid and yet the threat still hung in the air, he could see it in the hardening of her eyes. 

He stepped backwards and breathed deeply, allowing his anger to subside. 

“No more secrets Inquisitor, the Imperium crumbles under the weight of the secrets your kind keep.” 

She stared into his large green eyes and tried to fathom whether he was referring only to the Imperium or were other secrets being kept from him?

“Some secrets must be kept, so that the Imperium will endure,” Her words startled him, she noticed this, even as she continued to speak, “Ignornace in others is a weapon we must wield skillfuly, yet it must still be wielded.”

He shook his head as though her words had resonated with him but he was not sure that he agreed with them, he reached up to massage his temples with his thumb and forefinger, it was a surprisingly human gesture and it reinforced her feeling that there was more to this living blade than simply war. 

“Then consider my lack of ignorance to be a requirement for my continued co-operation,” he said tiredly. 

After a moment she finished, her tone softening, “Very well I will play your game,” 

And she would until such time that it ran in accordance with her plans.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

> “And we will not hesitate to do so, never question that my Lady, however we will not die to protect your secrets. From now on you will inform me of anything, anything that will directly affect my decisions or the lives of my men.”


YOUR DIALOGUES!:grin::shok:



> “Ignorance in others is a weapon we must wield skillfully, yet it must still be wielded.”


Absolute EPIC!... Hahaha:victory:....

P.S.

Can't REP you yet... DARN!....


----------



## Templar Marshal

Whens the next part going up?


----------



## the_unchanged

*New Parts*

Hey guys, 

Im sorry ive been so lax with regards to my updates, I can reassure you that I have been writing, the only problem being its been with pencil and notepad :no:

Real life has kicked in a bit too crazily but I will have three new parts posted up before the end of this week. 

I hope you can remain patient and once again I apologise for the delay.


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part 1*

She sat down upon a console, crossing her legs, she locked her hands upon her knees.

“Now you will answer my questions,” he grimaced then nodded solemnly, he was becoming impatient with the discussion but he knew that with this one he must surely continue to appease her for encapsulated in this small feminine form was the power to destroy his Chapter utterly and without mercy.

“I was denied the chance to press you during the briefing but you mentioned the word ‘xonian’ when you first saw the Armoured Forms, it was obvious you have had a previous encounter with them, how is this possible?”

“This Galaxy is large and infinite in its possibilities, the encounter you enquire after was coincidence nothing more,” he was trying to deflect her but it was an obvious ruse and she saw right through it. 

She lowered her head and sighed wearily, “You continue to test my patience Astartes and I shall tolerate it no longer, be assured that though your skills in the theatre of war are without compare, my own in the theatre of politics is nigh omnipotent.”

Namacuix was surprised by her response, though his features displayed nothing. 

“For a long time Inquisitor, my Chapter has had little contact with the wider Imperium, our only true correspondence coming through the mechanicum and their geneseed tithe delegations,” she knew this already, it was the Magos Biologis records where the source of most of the information she had gained on the marine and his mysterious Chapter.

He paused then as if expecting questions finding she offered none he continued. 

“It is they who will occasionally request our assistance, one such occasion we were required to join them on a rescue mission.”

She raised her eyebrow at this, obviously the mechanicum records were not as complete as she had been led to believe. 

“It was a simple mission, on a little known world called Xonia, it was unremarkable in every detail, absolutely no strategic value to anyone, however the Mechanicum had discovered archoxenotech in ancient ruins upon the northern pole and a small settlement was erected close by to begin excavation. However the delegation had stopped transmitting their annual reports and all communication was abruptly lost. 
The Mechancium became…..concerned.”

Cotillion flashed a wry smile at that, knowing the servants of the omnissiah’s concern would not have been reserved for the delegation and more for the possible loss of their tech. 

“We arrived at the back of a large Skitarii force, finding quickly that we were already too late, not only had the prospectus delegate at the dig site disappeared but the entire population of the settlement had been butchered like cattle, there were signs of struggle but little evidence of the perpetrators.”

Namacuix turned once more to face the screen and the image of the Armour form frozen there.

“It was then that the skitarii began to become highly agitated, at first we believed it was the blood in the air reacting with their combat stimms until we found a small knot of them surrounding something and gesturing wildly to their superiors. The scene was quickly sealed off but not before my squad caught a glimpse of what had caused the commotion, there half covered by the accursed dust of that dead world was one of the creatures you see before you, the mechanicus adepts were testing it, my hearing picked out a small part of their discussion and they referred to it as being tens of Millennia old and yet here it was, seemingly brought down in a battle with gun servitors. For us it was a curiosity nothing more, with no enemy to fight our presence was required redundant and the Mechanicus asked to leave shortly afterwards.”

Cotillion looked at him quizzically, “They ordered you to leave?”

Namacuix nodded, “They thanked us for our co-operation and assistance and informed us they would contact Sector command and told us we could leave so that is what we did.”

Cotillion bit her lip as she mulled over what he had just said.

“Why did you not report this yourselves?”

Namacuix snorted. “You truly have not been listening have you? You obviously do not understand our position, we are the bastions of the Imperium’s edge, we are the solaxian trees that guard the edge of the forest of humanity, we buffer the winds of chaos, lessening their strength so that the Imperium suffers less. We do so, not because we are ordered to by the ancient Lords of Terra but because it is our duty and it has always been thus, since the very birth of our Chapter. We have had no contact with any of your kind for centuries, the Mechancium are our only tangible link and they informed us that they would contact Sector Command, after that it was out of our hands.”

Cotillion could not believe what she was hearing, could they really be so niave as to believe that the Mechanicum would not keep their secrets and the Imperium be damned? 

And yet here he stood before her, his face open and honest, no hint of deception evident.

She realised his words had stung her composure and she rose to her feet, because of such ignorance another possible link to their target had been severed and without her master even knowing its existence, the old man would not be pleased. 

Which meant she was not pleased.

Rage filled her then as she looked into his face, how dare he stand there and act like his Chapter had done nothing wrong? 

“How many men have you committed to this theatre, Captain?”

If he was confused by her change of tact he did not show it.

“To an untrained eye such as the commanders of the PDF and those others who had never fought beside Astartes before, it would seem several companies at least judging by your efforts so far, however I would be more inclined to say the number would be closer to two hundred.”

“You would be close but you would be wrong, one hundred and sixty of my men have made planet fall and engaged.”

She pressed on unimpressed by his flippancy, “and yet there are nearly six hundred members of your Chapter, most stationed aboard the Skybridge, why have more not engaged?”

He was dismayed by her line of questioning, it seemed she knew more than he had thought possible, perhaps it was time to take a step back, take stock and not antagonise her further, he was unsure how he had managed to anger her but he would not allow it to continue. He had allowed his own anger to control him and now he had enraged the one person who could sign the death warrant of his Chapter, he realised now that he should have brought Oceltotl planetside, his tact in situations such as this would have been the Smith’s hammer to temper Namcuix’s blade.

“As a Commander I must never commit my entire force to one field, it would be remiss of me to do so, one mistake could see us ended without hope of revival.”

Her stony expression told him this explanation was not good enough, “and meanwhile the people of this world die in their hundreds-”

“However,” he said cutting her off, “I have ordered the Amaril company to be committed to the fight, they will engage shortly, this war will end soon, in a glorious victory for our combined forces, I promise you this now that we have located the source of the invasion.”

He gave her an uneasy smile. 

“Perhaps your Lord Captain will agree with your summation? I will be sure to ask him as soon as he arrives.”

So then she knew that as well, he had gravely underestimated her and now he could only pray to the Emperor that it would not cost him, that Bifrost’s madness would not damn them further. 

“I am sure he will concur-” 
He was interrupted by the rushing air of the entrance portal opening. 

Both of them turned to see who disturbed them. 

“Inquisitor Cotillion, may I speak with the Captain alone?” the gruff voice of the Planetary Commander Phlebas rang out around the chamber, as he swept into the room his long, furred cape flowing out behind him as he strode forward. 

Cotillion shot the old man a dark look, unhappy at being disturbed, then gave a shallow bow. 

“As you wish my Lord,” she turned back to Namacuix, “Captain.”

Namcuix nodded back, then watched as she stormed from the room, the stiffness of her gait allaying the obvious displeasure she felt. 

Phlebas waited for the portal doors to close before he spoke.

“I hope she was not too harsh on you Commander?” he asked softly, genuine concern in his eyes.

“No my Lord, we were merely discussing our conflicting points with regards to how we should proceed.”

Phlebas tutted and gave Namacuix a look that said he knew exactly what they had been discussing, “You do not have to humour and old man Captain,” he smiled weakly, “Though I thank you for trying to ease my worries.”

He leaned heavily upon a small cane and it seemed to Namacuix that the old Lord seemed incredibly weary, not like the strong willed old warrior he had crossed words with when he had first arrived, standing before him now Phlebas looked decades older. 

“This war will be the death of me,” he said finally, breaking the silence, “ah, but listen to me yammering on and wasting your time. I came to give you my thanks Captain, mine and also my peoples, you have saved this world and for that we are eternally grateful.” 

He offered his hand to the marine and Namacuix took it, they shook for several seconds and Namacuix could see a nervousness In the old man’s gesture and found himself surprised when he saw the small parchment of paper wedged between the fingers of his gauntlet, as Phlebas released his grip.

Namacuix looked down at the Commander who simply raised a quivering finger to his mouth and shook his head subtly, not now. He glanced at the small eye cam that covered the room. 

“I came only to offer my gratitude, no more. I wish you all success in the coming assault.” he bowed deeply and Namacuix returned the gesture, still perplexed by the old man’s actions. 

He watched as Phlebas backed away, before turning and heading for the exit, he stopped mid way though and turned back to Namacuix.

“One more thing, my people are beginning to voice questions over the heavy handed nature of the Cleavers, perhaps you would have a word?”

“Say no more my Lord, I will of course do as you request,” replied Namacuix.

The old Lord smiled as though satisfied then stopped as though wishing to add something, then thinking better of it, turned and left the room. 

Namacuix turned back to the screen, then looked down at the note in his hand, the longer he interacted with the servants of the Imperium, the more perplexing he found it, perhaps returning to the fold would not be as easy had previously presumed. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded to himself, Ictlan was right, he had neglected his human side for too long and now he had lost the part of himself that he now knew he would need the most. 

Looking once more at the note, he sighed and began to seek out a secluded alcove within which to read it.


----------



## Templar Marshal

MORE...I NEED MORE!!!:victory:


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part 2*

The Chamber hurtled away, detached from the all encompassing shadow of the SkyBridge and dropped like a chunk of metal down through the murky depths of the void towards the Bedrock of Soliban.

The noise on board was deafening, submerged as they were within, the Astartes of Amaril Company could feel it like physical pressure. 

The walls of the pod creaked and groaned under the intense forces they were being subjected to, yet like the Astartes held within it, were made of sterner stuff and would not break. 

The Astartes noticed none of this though for they were too busy looking forward at the mission to come, preparing themselves mentally, with accurate checks of their suits and biosigns, and spiritually, whispering prayers to their Emperor, seeking his blessing. 

Others still were looking back, back at events that threatened to have a much more devastating impact than their current mission. 

-_THERE IS NO LOGIC IN WHAT HAPPENED, THE ANARANS GAIN NOTHING FROM KILLING ONE OF US, SO WHY DID THEY DO IT? _- Started the first.

Though no words were spoken, the others clearly heard him, for they communicated on a much deeper ethereal level, any other form, even internal comms would have been stolen away by the sweeping roar of their descent. 

- _I CONCUR, BOTH OURSELVES AND THE ANARANS ARE THE SMALLEST OF THE COMPANIES, WE GAIN NOTHING FROM THIS EXCEPT OUR MUTUAL DESTRUCTION._- answered a second,

Still the marines sat, no physical movement betrayed their interaction. 

-_AH, THEN YOU SUSPECT PERHAPS AN EXTERNAL INFLUENCE_- returned the first. 

-_THERE IS SIMPLY MORE LOGIC IN SUCH AN EXPLANATION, THE QUESTION THEN BECOMES WHO AND WHY_- 

Silence descended then, for both contemplated the ramifications of that which they discussed. Finally another broke the silence.

-_WE HAVE ENTERED THE ATMOSPHERE, WE WILL LAND MOMENTARILY, PREPARE YOURSELVES_- 

The marines finally began to move, like seated statues brought to life by the some form of arcane rite, they reached for their weapons and began to run through the system checks, others still gripped force weapons tightly channelling their power through them.

Finally one of them, seemingly satisfied, opened the discussion once more. 

-_DO YOU THINK HE WILL DEMAND RETRIBUTION?_- 

-_IT WOULD BE ILLOGIC_- - 

The second did not get to finish his thought as a powerful command cut through the mindspeak.

-_ENOUGH!_- The single word tore through the minds of all on board.
-_WHATEVER OUR LORD COMMANDS WE WILL FOLLOW, ILLOGICAL OR NOT, WE SPEAK AS ONE VOICE AND WE ACT AS ONE ENTITY. FOR NOW WE WILL FOLLOW THE COMMAND OF THE LORD OF THE AZULS, THERE WILL BE CONTENTMENT ENOUGH IN THAT, WHATEVER COMES AFTER WILL COME AFTER, NOW PREPARE YOUR_- 

His commands were torn away as a storm of psychic power buffeted the craft. The Amarils spasmed as though wracked in pain, the warpfire that normally lit their eyes like candle flame now erupted forth in a cascade of sparks. One of them screamed, its power so loud that it dwarfed even the sound of the craft’s descent, before dropping unconscious. Others grimaced as blood poured forth from their ears and noses. 

“Such power.” cried out one, his voice stolen away in the whirlpool of noise, none of the others needed to hear the words though, they were all thinking the same thing. 

The assault continued to rage, eventually though they were able to gather a modicum of control, the Commander first, then the others, though they had little time to take advantage as their Pod slammed hard into the ground. Unprepared for the impact, they jolted forward, several almost dropping their weapons. 

The weapon systems on the roof of the pod opened fire above them, the staccato fire of the storm bolters decimating anything within several kiloms of the landing zone. Finally the harnesses unbolted and the Pod blossomed open like a ripened bud seeking the sunlight. The squad rose unsteadily, their basic motor functions seeming ungainly as their concentration was given fully to buffering the storm. 

The Commander surveyed his men as they secured the landing site, they moved faster than any non-Astartes squad could but still they were intensely lax for Amarils of the Rainbow Warriors. 

A bright nimbus of blue tinted lightening began to play around his psychic hood and he reached out subtly and caressed the minds of his men, affording them a small measure of his powerful control; they reacted quickly, their movement becoming clearer as they reacted to his power. 

Asvelon was one of the most powerful psykers within the Amarils, second only to their Lord Commander and yet he was shocked by the sheer power that washed the citadel before them. 

He had been angry at first when that young upstart Lord of the Azuls had ordered his men Planetside, however now he believed it may have been a fortuitous decision. 

There was power here, and knowledge. Something that he could most definitely use to empower their company. 

He realised that when he reported to the master of the Amarils, he would have to give praise to Namacuix. He grimaced at the thought. 

Several metres away Codicier Rogne, the youngest member of the squad smiled, it seemed that he too would have something to report, but it would be to an all together different master.


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part 3*

Captain,

Cotillion is a blade that will strike when you are at your weakest and Orinir is a snake, watch them both and trust them not. They are however, not your biggest problem. 

Their Master is the one who wishes you watched, it is he who seeks to cage you, to take you as his own. 

Tread carefully, for I have risked my life even warning you of this. 

_____________________________________________________________________


Namacuix’s thoughts remained upon the note he had received from the Lord Governor, it troubled him greatly and added to the already considerable weight upon his mind, the assualt was in it’s final stages of preparation and he dreaded to think how the arrival of Bifrost would affect it at this most critical of stages. 

He activated his comm, wishing to consume his mind with something else, something tangable, he continued to walk as he awaited the Report of the Amaril forces that had landed at his request.

The Comm silence was broken as Asvelon’s voice spoke curtly, detailing the events surrounding their planet fall and subsequent discoveries but it was the citadel that interested him most.

“The Power is immense, it’s taking my entire Cadre just to dampen its affects.”

Namacuix listened intently as he continued to report, the Amaril’s voice was strained with the incredible effort of what he was doing, his concentration elsewhere. 

“Is it the old enemy? Such power can surely only be daemonic in nature?”

There was silence for a while before the Amaril replied, Namacuix heard the unmistakeable chatter of bolter fire.

“Problems?” he asked.

“Nothing we cannot handle,” returned the Amaril after a moment,” there are a few of the Hostiles remaining but they are little more than a nuisance, as for the source of the power? We cannot be sure, but it does not reek of such corruption. There is a curious purity to it, as though it’s a single mind…..though that would be impossible, for it would far surpass any single psyker I have ever come across, almost to the point of absurdity. My belief is that it is a collection of bonded minds.”

Namacuix contemplated what Asvelon had just said and found himself wary of the connotations. 

“Continue to dampen its affects, the main assault shall begin shortly, we will strive to rendezvous at your position, from there we will end this.”

“One more thing Captain,” the Amaril said curtly, “the power is spread over such a wide area, it must be what’s controlling the Horde, if I’m right you will start to see a marked decrease in activity in and around the three cities.”

“Understood, I will notify Cotillion and the Lord Governor, good work Asvelon, I’ll leave you to report to Monvath, I’ve no doubt he will be interested in your discovery.”

With that Namacuix terminated the link, his final words a futile gesture, for he knew Asvelon would have contacted his Lord before he had reported to Namacuix. It was inevitable, the division too ingrained for it to be any different. 

Namacuix may have seniority over the Lord of the Amarils, however he was not naïve enough to believe that counted for something. 

His sense of frustration growing, he wandered along the narrow corridor; heading towards the Judge’s Hearing chamber at the heart of the Arbite’s fortress, though none of the black armoured inhabitants remained, their presence was still apparent in the sheer volume of eyecams that followed his movement and the lack of any type of decoration or austerity. No one could ever be in any doubt that this building was built to house security forces. 

He sighed as he rounded the corner and was greeted by the sight of two ornately armoured astartes in the livery of Rosians, guarding the entrance door to the chamber. 

The Rosians never moved, their Puma head etched helmets simply stared straight ahead. He halted before them and placed his fist to his chest in salute. 

“I have been summoned,” he called out, mindful of the traditions that protocol demanded.

“Pass, Brother Azul, pass into the presence of your King and Lord.”

“By your leave,” he replied solemnly, the words grating.

He waited patiently as one of the guards turned and opened the door, then followed quietly in the giant’s wake.

As they strode forward he noticed the presence of Borlung, his Honourguard having arrived before him as tradition demanded. Borlung acknowledged his Lord with a slight bow, which Namacuix returned. 

As he turned his attention back to the Judge’s podium before him and the reason he was here, he inhaled sharply as noticed that Bifrost sat in an almost mirror pose to the one had when Namacuix saw him last, on Void’s Edge, perched high above his audience and sentencing the Lord Governor of that world to death. 

Worse still was the presence of Vladren, the Master of the Fleet displayed his displeasure openly, his anger at his treatment by Namacuix plain for all to see. 

Namacuix ignored him, though he briefly he wondered what poisonous words he had offered to Bifrost in reference to what happened on board the SkyBridge. He knew now that this situation was a lot worse than he had previously imagined. 

He looked once more upon Bifrost and noticed, with mild surprise, that unlike their previous meeting, there was sneer upon the Lord Commander’s face, no open condemnation of the warrior who stood before him, no, there was only an open grin. The features of the old warrior’s face, normally tight and cruel, now looked soft and open, Namacuix immediately felt his apprehension intensify. 

“I have been summoned and so I have come,” he knelt before the dais.

The words felt hollow in his mouth, spoken by rote and with little enthusiasm, only anger and frustration filling his mind. Yet tradition must be honoured, here, now, where outside eyes are watching. 

“Rise young Lord of the Azuls, for we are all one in the eyes of the Emperor.”

Namacuix looked up as the Lord Captain descended from his throne, the words he spoke filled with a brevity that Namacuix did not expect. 

“My Lord,” he said as he rose to his feet, nearly stumbling as the old man swept up his arm in a warrior’s grip. 

“You have done well Lad, yes, better even than I could have hoped.” he uttered enthusiastically, “your misdemeanour on Void’s Edge is almost certainly forgiven.”

_ Misdemeanour?_ thought Namacuix, _ did he really take my actions so lightly?_

Confused by what was happening, he decided to change tact, unsure of why the Lord Commander was acting so strangely. 

“My Lord, I came as requested, to report on the forthcoming assault, before I returned to the SkyBridge to receive the rite of Blood before battle.”

Bifrost cut him short with a wave of his hand.

“There’s nothing to report, the Inquisitor has already filled me in.”

“Then you have spoken with the Lady Cotillion?” his throat suddenly felt dry, had Bifrost’s madness already damned them, he wondered. 

“Only by comm, she is apparently preparing her men at the City’s perimeter.”

Namacuix finally drew a deep breath, relief flooding through him only to be spiked by a second wave of apprehension as he realised why the Old man was acting so strange, he had come to seek the Glory for himself, he would relieve Namacuix of Command.

“Then you wish to take command of the assault personally?” he asked, trying to keep the tension from his voice. 

Bifrost shot him an incredulous look.

“Control? Why should I wish to wrest control from you Lad? This is your Board, the game will be played by your hand, and your hand alone.” he then strode past Namacuix causing the younger warrior to turn, “Though I expect their will be a place for my Rosians in the final assault?”

“Of course my Lord.”

Bifrost nodded. “Good , well then I will keep you from your glory no longer, I have a feast to attend to, at the personal bequest of the Lord Governor.”

He nodded to Vladren and the rest of his personal Guard and they began to march from the room. 

Namacuix turned to watch them go, though Bifrost had not followed them. He turned back to the Azul’s Captain.

“There is something else, Heimdallr tells me there is another Chapter present on this world, I would very much like to meet their Commander.”

Namacuix nodded his assent. “Of course my Lord, I am sure the High Claw will be honoured to meet you.”

Bifrost grinned wide at that, “I’m sure he will,” with that he turned and left, following his men from the room.

Namacuix followed them out, Borlung shadowing him until they reached a quiet corridor out of earshot. The Azul Captain turned to Borlung.

“Remain here, the old fool is up to something and I’m certain I will not like it. Watch him like the Hawk of Tuzan himself.”

Borlung nodded in assent of his words.

“And notify Autemoc, tell him to be ready to receive me, I require his council.”


----------



## Templar Marshal

Thanks man keep it up.Im enjoying this story it paints a very good picture in my minds eye.:grin:


----------



## the_unchanged

*.....*

Thanks Temp, I'm beginning to think your the only one still reading but I will continue to write even if it's just for you! :biggrin:


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## waltzmelancholy_07

Unchange, did you forget about me?.... Hahaha....

Well anyway... The challenges of Namacuix are steadily becoming numerous but what I like about him is that he keeps his cool, though barely but well enough to fool the manipulators...

Hahaha....

Keep them coming mate...

Cheers!...


----------



## the_unchanged

*.......*

Of course I hadn't forgotten about you Waltz. You were one of the first!

Though I thought you'd forgotten about me as you hadn't posted in a while haha

Though im very relieved your still enjoying it!


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part*

Namacuix knelt before Tonuauc, teeth gritted and head bowed, visions of battle tore at his mind as the rite of blood built towards its climax. Anger and frustration flooded out of him in waves, his twin heartbeats thundering in his head. His muscles tensed to breaking point, screamed of readiness and yet even as the Master of Sacrifice leaned in to place the first stroke of blood, his mind returned to his words with Autemoc. The memory of their discussion resonated in his head even as the ritual sought to steal his attention.

_He had stood then on the Bridge of the Skybridge and after receiving a Captain’s welcome from the bridge crew had joined Autemoc within his small audience chamber. 

Autemoc had placed his hand upon Namacuix’s shoulder.

‘Brother, I have listened to your worries and truly they echo my own.’ he had turned to face Autemoc then, seeing the weight of the task they undertook, in the older warriors face. He knew, because he saw it in his own. 

‘I must ask though, why are we still here? This battle is little more than a distraction we cannot afford, not now when our Chapter teeters on the brink. Better that we worked towards our own goal on our terms.’ _

Namacuix bit his lip as he remembered the anger he felt at his Brothers words, the one Brother who he had hoped understood what he hoped to achieve here. Blood rushed forth in a quick spurt, filling his mouth with a coppery tang, the same coppery tang that filled the air. In that moment he could smell the blood of every warrior he had ever slain, taste the blood of every xenos he had put down, it was intoxicating. Tonuauc’s brush strokes continued. 

His mind returned to the conversation and flinched at the memory of how he had pulled away from his brother. 

_‘This will further our goal, duty is our life blood, it is the shared goal of the completion of this war that will further cement our Chapter bond. To re unite as a Chapter we must first re unite with the Imperium. It is the only way.’

Autemoc had simply smiled grimly, the expression had infuriated Namacuix further. It was as if he was blind to the truth. Namacuix needed his support not to have his actions questioned.

‘At what cost lad? Survival here only for the Chapter to disintegrate in the wake of this? The Inquisition are breathing down our necks, they sense our weakness,’ Namacuix had shook his head at that , for his friends words rung all too truly with what he himself felt, ‘ and now the Rosians have returned, It’s a powder keg and it won’t take much for it to explode.’ _

A particularly potent vision tore his attention away from the past for the moment, his mind was wracked with an all to vivid memory of battle with a nameless xenon warrior and a cold dead world far from here, he felt his guantlet servos stir at the memory. He had held the warriors elongated head within his hands, crushing it until its lifeblood poured freely covering his hands. He shuddered as he remembered licking the bloob and stealing a moment of the beasts past, feeling its fear and anger at the intrusion of these armoured warriors. Too many of his men had fallen that day, the irony of this was not lost on him, it was an ill omen. He felt his heartbeats calming and shook his head, clearing his vision.

The memory slipped from his mind like blood draining from a corpse and his thoughts turned once more to his discussion with Autemoc.

_ We do this now because we must, we have been hidden from the eyes of the Imperium too long, now they must see us again and see us clearly and with strength, to do otherwise would be to show weakness. That we cannot afford to do. We must show the illusion of strength, even when we have none. It must be the strength of unity, we will survive this and we will prosper once more. I will not allow it to be otherwise.’_

Looking back now he still felt shocked at how much doubt he had felt at those words, because of him his men were dying on a battlefield that was not their own. They were here because of him and he must ensure their sacrifices were not in vain.’ 

Would re joining the fold assuage their divisions, or would it aggravate them further. He prayed to Him on Terra that it would be the former, perhaps the threat of a common enemy would unite them.

He had gone to his Brother for council and support instead he had found himself only fresh doubts and doubts were not something an Astartes was used to. 

Perhaps then it was the choler he had felt at his own weakness that had led him to snap when the subject of the third member of the alliance was brought up.

_‘Oclelotl believes the Inquisition and the Rosians are not our only worries-’ Autemoc had began before Namacuix had cut him off angrily.

‘Ocelotl is a snake and a paranoid fool, it is he who is supposed to be here playing the heretic’s advocate, questioning my actions not you. Instead he is off wandering the ship in search of phantoms and spectres that do not exist!’ Autemoc had simply continued walking, his stride never faltered, he seemed little phased by his brother’s outburst. 

‘Aye lad but he is our snake, his paranoia serves us, he is the sneaking _coxatilt_ to our marauding _Pumans_. If he believes something is amiss then I must also.’

‘Then you too believe there are fractions deeper even than those we know of?’

Autemoc’s response had chilled him to the core.

‘You do not? 

He knew then that he did and the knowledge ate at him.

‘I come to you for support, for succour instead you open my eyes to the futility of our endeavours, how can we defeat our enemies when they are hidden from us. We have enough enemies there is no need for us to create more!’ 

Autemoc’s face had hardened then, anger flushing across it.

‘Do not doubt yourself Namacuix or our endeavours, our enemies are many and we are few but we are the Rainbow Warriors of the Emperor’s own Astartes and we will prevail, under your leadership we will find victory, that is what I believe. You have my full support brother, do what you must, what you believe is right and I will follow you unto even the great maw itself. If it comes to it and we must fight the Rosians and the Inquisition then so be it.’

His brother had grinned then but it had been a sheepish expression and it held no brevity.

‘Ocelotl and the others they too feel the same way?’

‘They support you as I do, Ocelotl perhaps even more so, he seeks answers even as we speak.’

Namacuix had nodded then satisfied for he could ask no more of them, whatever doubts he had over his plans, he had none over the loyalty of his brothers. _

He had turned the conversation then to the war and how it’s course would run, they discussed the role of the sky bridge and the deployment of their brethren until the time came for them to go their separate ways, Autemoc to return to his bridge and Namacuix here, to endure the rite of blood.

He gripped the floor as Tonuauc finished his final stroke, the seven shades seeping into his skin, the ritual complete. With a troubled mind he let the visions finally take him and then there was only thoughts of war.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

Oh my, the conspiracy is getting deeper and deeper:victory:... Hehe...

But unchange I really have to say this, its starting loose its grip on me... The conspiracy.... 

Maybe because you have, up til now, only showed one side of it... Namacuix's side... You have not yet revealed a glimpse of the enemy's... For example: An exchange between the chapter master and one of his associates, regarding Namacuix and how to kill him... You get my drift?... If not PM me:victory:...

Hope you rep soon and Cheers!...

P.S.
Read my fanfic and critique it... Don't be modest, kill it!!!! Tnx!!!...


----------



## the_unchanged

*new part 21/05*

Ocelotl stalked along the wide corridors of the Apothecarium, he moved cautiously careful not to mark his passage.

Though he was a Verdant, he belonged to the scout cadre and as such did not have the clearance to walk unattended within these halls. This was only part of the reason for his tentative actions, something was not right amongst his brothers and it was this that irked him, it was an itch that would not allow him to scratch.

In days gone by this area would have been filled with Apothecaries and their attending staff, serfs and attendants bustling around in fulfilment of their masters orders. Though they lay silent now, their voices and presence stolen by the winds of change and decay. 

The war footing they were currently engaged in had made those few attendants who still expected to be around even more scarce, most of them now joining his brothers planetside. Nonetheless he moved as though he might be spotted at any moment, overconfidence and laxity were never skills he excelled at. 

He stopped dead as he detected the sound of movement ahead of him, the slipped back into the shadows as a servitor drone trundled past on some mundane task, it’s dysfunctional vox chiming machine code as it moved.

He waited for it to pass out of sight then moved to go forward again but something didn’t feel right, he decided to wait where he was, he had made a habit of trusting his instincts. He waited silently until he caught the faint sounds of footsteps ringing on the metal deck, moving towards him, he held his breath lest it betray him and waited, finally An attendant in the livery of a verdant serf rushed by carefully carrying what appeared to be a greenish tinged liquid in a vial, gripping it tightly as though terrified he would drop it and the consequences of what would happen if he did.

Oceltotl mind spun, calculating the threat levels and of everything around him, his tenseness causing his mind to prepare for all eventualities, in the scant seconds it took for the serf to pass him and move on out of sight, he had noticed that the man favoured his right hand, that he breathed irregularly and that he moved with a slight limp. A thousand kill moves spun through his head, each ending with the termination of his target, each utterly pointless under the current context, for the man who had passed was not his enemy.

He waited silently for several minutes even after the serf had long passed from sight, wishing to ensure the attendant was definitely not coming back, it would not do to have to kill the man for Ocelotl’s own laxity. Finally he slipped out of his hiding place and continued onwards towards to the place where he knew he would find what he sought. 

He moved stealthily along the corridors for a further four minutes before finally reaching the medicum bay. He licked his teeth as he saw what awaited him there, row upon row of taint, row upon row of his chapters most terrible secret, the tanks that housed his fallen brothers. 

As he walked cautiously forward he caught sight of a face he had once known, the face of someone who had doomed him and his brother, the face of his former Captain. His mind reeled, recalling the past. He detested this place, this gaol. It housed not only the sins of the chapter but also those who had transgressed. Those who had fallen to the Red Tide but not died for their sins.

He did not believe as his brothers did, that they would find a cure and their lost brethren would be saved, unlike them he had seen the curse up close, felt its touch upon and it had nearly killed him. No, this place was folly, a dangerous lair for the one thing that would destroy them. 

It reeked of everything wrong with his beloved Chapter, it was the resting place of their curse and were it up to him it would burn in cleansing flame. 

His knees almost buckled as memories assailed him. He stumbled forward and dropped to one knee, making more noise than he wished, the clattering of his armour ringing around the cavernous chamber. He struggled to focus as the memories tore at his mind, restoring a fragility there he had long thought conquered.

_ The orks hurled their bodies at the defences surrounding the firebase, the stink of them mixing with the acrid smell of bolter fire. Shell cases littered the ground as the squad’s bolters fired unendingly, their staccato roar drowning the cacophony of screams of the dying green skins……_

‘Concentrate!’ He whispered to himself, before gritting his teeth and rising once more to his feet.

_ Tenlinct grabbed his pauldron, pulling him back from the advancing green horde. He turned to yell angrily at his brother but his twin merely ignored his abuse.
‘The captain has ordered us to fall to the firebase, there we will make our final stand.’
He turned and looked where his brother gestured. Heavy stub rounds and las fire punched the stone around the entrance portal where their squad mate waited, firing his bolter continuously in covering fire. ‘Make haste Brothers.’ Namacuix voxed. ‘I am running low on ammunition.’

Namacuix……_

A white hot shard of hatred punched through him like the tempered steel of a blade to the chest, it quickly subsided to be replaced with something colder and more controlled. Ice now, where before was only fire.

He snarled and punched the deck before him, the noise meant risking discovery but control now was more important. He let the slight pain anchor him in the here and now. The present, where Namacuix was an ally and no longer his nemesis. He had not felt such unchecked emotion in such a long time. 

Grief mingled briefly with his anger as he remembered his fallen brother, his twin. No tank was filled with his presence, no hope of a resurrection for him. Unlike the others he had not succumbed to the taint, he had fought it and was rewarded with internment into the Chapter’s Mausoleum, while his killers were housed here awaiting the chance to return to the halls of the living. It sickened him. 

He staggered on wishing to be free of this place, he should not have come this way, he should have found another way. 

It mattered little now for as he cleared the last row of vats he saw what he had came here for.

Laid out on twin gurneys were his dead brethren. An Amaril and an Anaran. 

These two held the key to the answers they needed.


----------



## the_unchanged

Ictlan hurried along the deserted corridors of the Azul’s barrack quarters, he hoped he would catch his brother before the rite of blood was initiated. Beyond that would be too late for Namacuix’s mind would be focused solely on the coming battle. 

He had spent scant time in his brother’s company of late, as the war planetside was entering its final stage which meant his brother had little time for anything other than planning and prosecuting the war. The council between them had grown far too lax. He knew that his Brother needed him now more than ever for he must remain grounded if he was to re unite his fractured brethren. 
He decided he would take a short cut and skirt through the chambers of the Verdants.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ocelotl studied the bodies closely, noticing the lack of either wounds from psyker fire or tech, showing the ferocity and viscousness of their fight, both had forsaken their individual strengths in their eagerness to grip with the foe before them. They had died gripped in a deadly embrace, crushing the life from each other. The satisfaction of such personal killing the only relief it seemed, from their madness. 

For madness it must have been, this was not how Astartes fought, not the way of such of such noble warriors, this was the way of animals forsaken to bloodlust. 

He sighed then realising that perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps they had simply succumbed to the hell of the Red Tide, perhaps then there had, as he believed, been no external influence. 

The sight of their ruined forms reinforced his earlier visions of a time when he had seen others die this way, like beasts gripped by madness and it bothered him greatly, it resonated with him that others of his brothers should die this way was a terrible injustice. He clenched his fists trying to dispel some of his anger, that his own Twin had died this way still haunted him. 

Something else nagged at his thoughts, tearing his attention back to the bodies, something wasn’t right, this…this was too convenient. He found himself searching, looking past the superficial wounds, hunting for something more, something that his instincts told him was there. 

He stepped back and viewed the bodies from afar trying to clear his thoughts when something snagged his attention, something he hadn’t seen before. In the wane light of the morgue he saw it, a glint of something small reflected from brother vostlx, the anaran’s neck. 

He knelt down to inspect it closer, finding a minute puncture wound, perforating the skin was the broken needle of a hypodermic injector. A tiny sliver of reinforced metal, toughened to punch through Astartes skin. 

Removing his gauntlet, he lent in and carefully removed it. He sucked at the air as he did so, desperate not to drop it. Finally as it came free, he let it roll down into his open palm. He lifted it up to his face to inspect it. 

Finally satisfied, he clutched it tightly, then moved to inspect the other brother, finding to his dismay a similar wound. 

He struggled to understand the meaning of this but did not doubt it’s severity. Someone had tampered with his brothers and it seemed he had found the link to the external influence he had known along was there. 

So lost in his thoughts was he, that he heard the movement behind him several seconds slower than he would have normally. These scant seconds were all that were needed. Massive hands engulfed him tightly holding his head in a vice like grip. 

He thought like a trapped wolf but his opponent had the armour and bulk of his terminator armour on his side, worse still Ocelotl could feel the tiny prickling of an injector trying to pierce the skin of his neck. He threw his head back, hoping to break a nose but instead connected only with the cold hard ceramite of a helmet. He growled and spat, trying to pull the hands from him but the lack of the additional strength of his own gauntlet coupled with the power of his opponents own was hindering him badly. 

The struggle lasted for several more minutes, Ocelotl’s grunts and the hammering of his twin hearts the only noise, then after what seemed like an eternity of struggle the injector struck with the force of a boarding torpedoe, tearing his skin and injecting its deadly payload. Finally the grip released and Ocelotl stumbled away, gripping his neck. 

Even with his vision blurring, he knew who it was who had betrayed him.

‘You…’ he growled, feeling irrational waves of rage consume him.

He knew he must warn his allies, warn them before whatever it was that was infecting him, overpowered him. He warred with himself, part of him dearly wishing to kill the traitor, however the colder, rational side of him knew to do so would be suicide. It was a close run thing but in the end, enough of the cold brutal killer he had become won over the beast that raged now within his breast. 

He stared defiantly at his silent assailant, his heavy footsteps rung on the decking as he moved ready to finish what he started.
‘Throne take your accursed head you accursed old fool!’ Ocelotl screamed with a rage borne of something more than desperation, something artificial.

_ What in the great maw had he been injected with? _

He launched a small metallic object then turned away as his assailant tore it from the air, only to have it explode within the clenched gauntlet. Flames roared forth engulfing the armoured figure and bathing the room in liquid fire. 

Ocelotl was gone from the room in the several moments it took for his attacker to recover, he was not pursued for time was on the assassin’s side.


----------



## Templar Marshal

Good to see another chap of the story up. Hope they keep coming soon.:biggrin:.+rep


----------



## the_unchanged

*update 02/06/10*

Ictlan was almost running now, the shortcut through the area of the Verdants was proving laughably inefficient. Everywhere he turned he found himself being denied a through route, the war footing of the ship had choked many of the arteries that would have provided easy passage under more normal circumstances. Most of the areas were now filled with detours, each section being cut off from non essential crew. He knew now that he would be late, that the Blood Rite would have culminated and that he would miss his brother. Still though, he would carry on in the hope that perhaps he was wrong. He was lost in his thoughts, his head bowed and un aware when almost inexplicably he found himself running into a wall 

Looking up from the floor half dazed, he realised the ‘wall’ was in fact a fully armoured Rainbow Warrior.

‘I’m so-sorry my Lord, I meant n-no disre-’ 

‘Ictlan?’ The astartes stumbled foreward, causing the smaller human to back away.

‘Lord Oceltol?’ Ictlan tried to get a better look to help identify the warrior. ‘What has happened are you in distr-’ once more the serf was cut off. 

‘I do not have time to explain.’ He rose to his full height, his face pulled tight as though his body struggled to remain upright. ‘ You must warn your Brother.’ 

‘Warn him of what my Lord? I do not understand.’ Ictlan’s words poured forth in a torrent, nervousness getting the better of him.

‘Enough.’ Ocelotl gripped his habit tightly pulling him closer. ‘Listen to me Ictlan, listen carefully.’

He pulled Ictlan in even closer, the serf noting strangely the smell of a sweet musk, one he had smelled before from his Brother, it was a strange thing to notice but it was all that kept him from collapsing in fear. 

What the warrior said next shocked Ictlan to his core.

He fell to his knees as Ocelotl released him. ‘There is no time for questions, you must get away from here. Find your Brother.’

Ictlan hesitated, torn between running and trying to help his Brother’s friend.

‘Go!’ Ocelotl snarled. ‘Trust only your brother, tell what you have learned to his ear only. Now go!’

Ictlan turned and ran, hearing the final words of Ocelotl as a distant whisper. ‘I cannot control myself any longer…’ 

Ictlan did not look back, he did not look back even when he heard the warrior fall to the floor behind him, nor when his shouts became howls of rage, more bestial than human. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ritual finished the officers of the Rainbow Warriors marched side by side down the winding arteries of the Skybridge, moving in unison towards the shuttle bays and the drop ships awaiting them there. Decades of internecine strife and political infighting had divided them but here, now, they moved as one for there was one thing that would unite any Arstates and that was the call to war. Every Company with the exception of course of the Reds was present and if Namacuix was not still tasting the after affects of the Blood Rite, his heart would have sung to see it, for it was an echo of another age. An age when his Brothers still fought as one. 
They moved in silence for none spoke so wrapped up in the memories of the Blood #rite were they, that few even acknowledged that they walked amongst the others. The only sound was the ringing of their heavy boots, which had oddly fallen into sync as though their astartes genealogy sought to join them with their brothers, and the booming of their heartbeats as the blood coursed through their bodies. 

Together they marched on, on into the fires of war themselves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ocelotl watched Ictlans departing through bleary eyes, pain wracked his body fuelling his overbearing rage. He gripped the metal grille of the deck as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably. He howled furiously as he beat the deck, warping the metal. His bare knuckles tearing on one hand while the gauntlet on the other chipped and sparked with every contact. 

He could smell……he could smell ork flesh and it mingled with the aroma of the blood of his Brothers. _ Ork flesh? There were no orks aboard the Skybridge. _ 

He gripped his head, perplexed by what was happening. Something screamed at him with a certain clarity that he was not aboard the Skybridge anymore. His head spun.

For the first time since he was a child he felt utterly helpless. His mind reeled, trying to devise strategems, tactics and possible outcomes but they slipped across the surface of his thoughts like a layer of oil on water. His blurring vision saw only the corridor before him and his hands felt only the cold metal of the deck and yet the smells continued to assault his nose and his ears rang with the noise of death screams and gunfire. 

He looked up to see figures moving down the corridor towards him, the lack of clarity in his vision hindering any attempt at quick identification. They moved cautiously and he sense their trepidation. It mirrored his own. 


Attendant Shotl had served the Sky Warriors for decades, ever since he had failed the trials as a child. They had offered him the choice of service or the honour of sacrifice. He had known even then that many had chosen the latter but in his heart of hearts he knew he would be strong enough and so had chosen the former. He had found in time that service was an honour in itself and so he had become content, happy even. 

He had heard the dark rumours of a curse that affected the demi gods and as a Serf that carried the livery of the Verdants he had seen the reds, the ones they held in stasis, but it was his duty to ignore such foolish gossip. 

Now, though before him, was something he had not expected. One of his Lords affected by what appeared to be madness. Terror gripped him but the ingrained sense of duty he felt forced him forward, here was one of those he served in trouble and that he must do all he could to help. Scared beyond rationality, he moved forward on shaky limbs, calling out to his Lord. In his wake were to others of his ilk, those others who had also heard the commotion and they too moved to help. 

He saw them then, the green skins, they charged forwards to the rear of the medicae squad, his squad. They moved to attack his squad, he growled a curse and rose once more to his feet. 

Shotl flinched and threw his hands up as he saw the weapon in the astartes’ hand, he backed away as the warrior raised it.

‘My Lord!’ He screamed. ‘It is your attendants, we mean you no harm.’

He gulped in hard mouthfuls of air, to his left another of his fellow serfs wept openly. 

‘Please my Lo-’

The boom of the bolter round was deafening in such close quarters, the muzzle flare blinding in its intensity. The attendants dropped low, wailing in terror as the shot screamed by above their heads. 

Ocelotl gripped the pistol feeling the reassuring calm in such a gesture, the green skins would take him so easily. 

He drew his sword and uttering a prayer to the Emperor he charged. 

Shotl had soiled himself in his terror, he screamed at the silence that now filled his head and clutched his hears where the blood flowed freely. He prayed to the Sun God that this was all some kind of fever dream, for surely one of his masters would not forsake them so. 

In his prone state he did not see the maddened warrior bearing down on him, murderous intent in his eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ictlan was flustered and out of breath by the time he reached the long expansive corridor which led to the shuttle bay.He had missed the Blood Ritual by a near margin and now found himself running to catch them before they reached their final destination on the Skybridge and ultimately headed planet side. He had found the Halls of the Purans empty, for in the recent upheaval the Rite had been hastened. He could only hope now that he could catch them. 

He ran as fast as his augmented leg would allow, his ruined knee aching with every juddering movement, the harsh tap of the metal casing rapping against the deck grille grated in his ear almost as much as the pain jarred him. 

He pause briefly to massage the stiff joint and take stock before moving on once more, he turned into the embarkation deck and found himself faced with disciplined ranks of Astartes. Fully armoured and ready for war they waited to board each of the regal gunships that awaited them. Each of them moved robotically as though they were deep in thought and Ictlan knew that indeed they were, for the Blood Rite would have ensnared their minds with thoughts of war. 

He struggled to recognise any of them as he searched for the armour he would recognise the one he knew so well. The twin pauldron emblems, Hawk and Jaguar emblazoned in Gold, coupled with the Golden Helm of the Second Captain, those tokens of office he had worked so hard to keep perfect for his brother but he could not seem them amongst the sea of Blue. 

A dark shadow fell over him obscuring his view further and he looked up to find himself facing the colourful helm of a veteran, the coloured markings and feather fetishes, identified him as a Rosian. Ictlan felt his pulse quicken, this was not what he had wanted. 

‘You should not be here Tonalian.’ the sound came through the external vox of the helm and sounded like little more than the growl of a primordial predator, Ictlan took a step back despite himself, the threat feeling all too apparent. 

‘I apologise my Lord but I must speak with my master, it is a matter of urgency.’ his throat felt dry as he spoke and the words came out as little more than a whimper. He was a brave man but facing down a fully armoured veteran Astartes would unnerve even the most courageous of men. 

The warrior raised up and seemed to simmer with barely contained rage, too late Ictlan had realised his mistake, for this Rosian had been part of the Blood Rite. There would be no reasoning with him, for his mind was consumed with seething violence. 

‘Fool, your Master shall have to find himself a new slave.’ the Rosian roared as he raised a clenched fist to strike Ictlan. 

Ictlan flinched and threw his arms up before him. 

The blow never fell. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ocelotl stared at the bodies of the attendants before him, their gore and life fluids covered the corridor and more horrifically his weapons and armour. He dropped to his knees and roared in anguish, confused and horrified by what he had done. 

The rage filled him once more and the self disgust he had felt faded in the face of the newer emotion like dispersing mist. 

He felt a hand gripping his shoulder pauldron and pulling him backwards, snarling he spun in the grip to face whoever dared handle him. Surprise flared wildly in his head as he found himself facing his brother, his twin. 

‘Tomlinct?’ he whispered.

The noises of gun fire filled the air once more and he felt his senses bristle as the stink of ork once again filled his nose. A voice within him knew this could not be, but once more it was silenced by the anger that filled him. 

‘The captain has ordered us to fall to the firebase, there we will make our final stand.’
He turned and looked where his brother gestured. Heavy stub rounds and las fire punched the stone around the entrance portal where their squad mate waited, firing his bolter continuously in covering fire. ‘Make haste Brothers.’ Namacuix voxed. ‘I am running low on ammunition.’

Furious anger threatened to overwhelm at the sight of Namacuix but strangely he knew it was misplaced as though he was detached from it for he had settled his hatred of his comrade and this was something else, some spectre of the past, as fake as this vsion of the past and yet, it trapped him as surely as a porogon fly within an detaching’s nest. 

His vision blurred and he blacked out momentarily, he opened them again to find that somehow time had sped forward and he now found himself inside the Firebase. Yet again he knew this was wrong that somehow he shouldn’t be here that this, this image was not real but something drove him forward to embrace it. 

His heart lurched as he saw his brother, his twin and he reached up to touch his own face to feel the same features that he saw before him, to feel the scar of his terrible wound, the wound he kept to remind him of his brother….his brother who now stood before him once more. 

His hand felt unblemished skin for it was whole again, the scar gone as somehow, he knew it would be. Was this real? Was he truly whole again? Here now re joined with his brother; or was this another part of the illusion?

He snarled as he watched his squad mates empty the last of their ammunition through the firing slots and into the advancing greenskin hordes. It didn’t matter whether this was real or fake all he knew was that his brothers needed him. He stepped forward to the firing step beside Tomlinct and joined his own fire to that of his brothers. 

‘There’s too damn many of them!’ Cried Savonis, the hard faced Verdant, as he poured the last of his clip into the green tide. 

‘Then we keep killing them.’ Ocelotl found with surprise that it was his voice who answered.

To his left both Tomlinct and Namacuix grunted their assent and Ocelotl found the small part of him that rebelled against this reality diminishing, he felt whole again, this was where he was mean to be, here, now with his squad mates. 

He suddenly felt dizzy and his head swam once more as time seemed to surge forward again. 

He stumbled back wards from his fire step. 

‘Ocen? Are you hit?’ called out Tomlinct genuine concern in his voice. 

‘No’ he reached up to remove his helm, ‘I am fine.’ 

Of the three of them only Namacuix still took potshots at the enemy, draining the last of their dwindling ammunition. Tomlinct sat facing the entrance portal, working on his jammed bolter. 

‘They are bypassing us, it seems they have found a sweeter target.’ Called out Namacuix.

They all knew what he meant, the Greenskins were throwing everything they had at the remaining hive and the Imperial forces there. The firebase was a minor distraction, barely worth the effort, as the battle at Garonis Hive was set to be the largest of the war so far. 

‘Seems Gailen’s forces are offering a better scrap.’ Said Namacuix without looking back his concentration maintained entirely by his enemy and nothing else. 

‘Stay on your toes Nama, some of them will still find us a juicy enough morsel.’ replied Tomlinct his gruff voice tinged with certainty. 

Ocelotl suddenly wondered where the Verdant had disappeared to, when a memory surfaced that the medic had been called upstairs by the Captain. 

At the thought of Pavonis, his sense of foreboding grew, as did his anger and frustration. It was then that they heard the gunfire from upstairs.

‘That was inside the building.’ growled Tomlinct as he brandished the two foot long combat knife he carried. 

Ocelotl moved in his brother’s wake as they headed for the stairs.

‘Stay in your positions if we are needed, he will vox us.’ Namacuix called after them, halting them just before the first step. Even then the future Captain had delusions of Leadership. 

They were not foolish however and both saw the logic in their brothers statement. 

‘What if he is already dead?’ Growled Ocelotl allowing his choler to get the better of him, something continued to nag the back of his mind, a growing voice of warning at the events unfolding. 

‘Then we remain here and avenge them by killing anything that comes down those stairs.’ As if to punctuate his words, thundering footsteps echoed from the stairs and the three marines spun to face the possible threat, bringing their weapons to bear. 

They relaxed slightly as they realised it was the Captain, though there ire quickly returned as they saw his ashen face. Ocelotl licked his lips and gripped his bolt pistol tighter, something wasn’t right. 

He watched apprehensively from beside his twin as the Captain stumbled forward, his movement weak and lacking confidence. 

The older warrior staggered past them to fall against the wall next to Namacuix, all three of the younger marines cried out to see their Lord brought so low. He raised an arm weakly, silencing them as he clambered once more to his feet. 

‘Ocen, Tomen watch the stairs, let no one pass!’ 

He looked at his twin and could see the shock of their Captain’s words mirrored in his face. 

‘No one?’ Queried Tomen finally.

‘Do our Brothers not remain above?’ added Ocelotl.

‘No one!’ snarled the Captain, his anger at their words giving strength to his words. He then leaned forward gripping Namacuix by the neck and pulling him close to whisper into is ear. 

The combined noise of the bolter fire from above and the insanity of the green skins movement kept him from hearing what was said but by the look on Namacuix’s face as he pulled away, spoke volumes. 

He backed away from the Captain shaking his head dumbly. 

‘Do it now boy.’ The Captain said menacingly. 

Ocelotl glanced to his left anf met eyes with Tomlinct, his brother looked as tense and unsure of what was happening as he did. His face a reflection not only in features but also it seemed in feelings. 

‘My Lord? What has happened here?’

‘The stairs Ocen, they are your only concern.’ was the only reply forthcoming, Ocelotl decided not to push it. 

He turned to face the stairs, glancing quickly to see his Brother and all hell broke loose.

Then there was only a blinding light and excruciating pain.


----------



## the_unchanged

*new update*

Ictlan stumbled backwards and landed on his hip, he sucked in air as a wave of pain surged through him threatening to overwhelm him. Pain though, pain was good, it meant he was alive. 

He risked opening his eyes and found himself with a second giant towering over him, the newcomer gripped the Rosians hand tightly, holding it fast. Oddly the second figure also wore the tactical dreadnought armour of a veteran, though this one was not of the Rosian order. 

Ictlan could not recognise his saviour, nor even be sure of his order for many of them carried terminator as they were not exclusive to the veteran Rosians. The armour upon the chest plate was blackened and charred through fire damage and the paint work on both pauldrons ruined beyond recognition. 

Ictlan could hear the muted clicks of what must surely be internal comms and knew instantly that words were being exchanged between the two Astartes. 

Finally as though on command, the Rosian turned away from both Ictlan and his saviour and departed, leaving the two alone. The serf struggled to his feet as the newcomer turned to him. 

‘You should not be here _Majordomo, all non-Astartes crew are to remain restricted after the Blood rite has been engaged, it is dangerous for my brothers to be disturbed. They seek only violence in their current state.’ Ictlan struggled to recognise the voice, broadcast as it was through the helms external vox.

‘My Lord, I thank you for your intervention, however I-I must speak with my Brother, it is a matter of utmost urgency.’ 

The warrior reached up to his helm and Ictlan could hear it depressurising as it was unfastened, he waited patiently as it was removed. Finally the warrior lifted it clear to reveal a face that made Ictlan balk with horror. 

‘Come now Ictlan, perhaps I can be of assistance?’ A wide grin split the old warrior’s cruel face. A face that Ictlan prayed he would avoid. 

‘I need no help from you traitor!’ Ictlan managed as he backed away, heading towards the exit. 

‘No need to be so dramatic my old friend, I’m sure whatever you need to say to your brother you can say to me?’ He did not give the old serf time to answer, instead he gripped him lightly, lifting the human and carrying him forward into a small recess where they would not be seen. 

There he cuffed Ictlan lightly knocking him to the floor and rendering him unconscious.

He then reached up and activated his comm. ‘This is Heimdallr, notify the Admiral that I will be joining the assault forces planetside after all.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ocelotl’s face was on fire, the entire left side of his helmet and armour was melted and fused with his skin, his enhanced metabolism fought to control the surges of agony with pain dullers, and neuro enhancers but it wasn’t enough, he was struggling to remain conscious. Even his enhanced mind struggled to fight through the shock. The pain though the pain was nothing compared to the anguish that his brother was similarly wounded or possibly even dead. The vision in his remaining eye was just returning after being temporarily blinded by the melta grenade blast and he was shocked by the devastation it had wrought. Even worse was the vision of his Captain grappling with Solun, a member of their own squad. Solun was frenzied he attacked viciously, drving a broken shard of metal to punch again and again against the Captain weakened form. 

Confusion overwhelmed even the numbing shock he felt, why in the Emperor’s name was Solun attacking them? 

It was madness, warp damned madness. 

He rolled over, to try to get to his feet only to see Namacuix slip through the inbuilt escape hatch that led back to the Hive proper. 

‘Nama!’ He roared, his voice wet and filled with bloody phlegm, ‘Throne, where are you going? Help us!’ 

Namacuix looked back, something approaching terror covering his face, indecision racked him. 

‘Why are you running! Help us you Coward!’ Ocelotl cried once more. 

‘No! go now! Do as I ordered!’ called the voice of the Captain, his words punctuated with the exhertion of grappling with his foe. 

Namacuix looked back once and then was gone the hatch slamming hard behind him, sealing those left behind to their fate. 

Ocelotl screamed with rage, though the small part of his conscience that was not enmeshed by this ersatz reality knew this had to happen, that Namacuix had been sent to warn Captain Gailen, to prevent the discovery of the curse that inflicted them. He knew this and still it did not make it any easier. His shame at his anger then and future choler towards his brother stinging his heart. 

Still the curse gripped him and it was pulling him further under. 

He saw what he was to become in the actions of his Captain. Tezuma is this what you felt as the curse took you? Did you fall happen this way?

He shook his head sadly as the Captain finally succumbed, dropping the broken form of Solun to the floor and smashing his head repeatedly into the floor. 

Tezuma uttered a bestial curse as his blows became more frantic, the skull below him burst and smeared the floor in brain fluid and bone fragments and still the Captain did not stop. 

Ocelotl climbed to his feet weakly, knowing what he must do, through tear soaked eyes he strode forward and struck the distracted Captain as hard as his weakened state would allow knocking him to floor and rendering him unconscious.

More growls sounded from above but Ocelotl could do know more, he fell forward on top of the prone Tezuma as the darkness finally took him. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Autemoc found himself amongst a squad of Purans as they headed towards the sounds of the gun fire that beckoned them. He could not believe what he had been told, surely it could not be true. 

Yet as they rounded the corner he was greeted by a sight that chilled his heart. 

A maddened marine in the livery of the Verdants, stormed about the corridor before the Apothecarium. His armour smeared with the blood of attendants and serfs alike. He seemed gripped in the throes of insanity, as though some dream tore at his mind. He screamed and dropped to all fours.

It was true then, his friend had succumbed to the madness of the Red Tide. 

Autemoc arrived at the back of a Second squad who were already in place, they stood facing Ocelotl waiting on orders from Tonuauc, the gaunt master of sacrifice standing to their right, observing silently. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ocelotl found himself floating in a void, the image of the melta bomb detonating between him and his brother and the maddened actions of Tezuma fading quickly. 

The rage lapped at him in waves, threatening to take him under, to pull him further into the depths of madness like some Tidal storm threatening to capsize a fishing boat. 

How apt a name to give it then, for the Red Tide it surely was. 

He felt his mind separate now, as though this rational side of him was all that was left of what he used to be and the rest? Well the rest floated before him, his maddened form thrashed within the void. The control of it no longer his. 

Though as he watched the Void resolved once more back into reality, to become the corridors of his home. 

He squeezed his eyes closed in shame as his corporeal form cried out Namacuix’s name before gripping the bolter that had moments before lain prone before him. 

He tried to scream a warning, to wrest back control of himself but it was not enough. 

Before him stood a squad of Purans, not so the Rosians who had saved him that terrible night long ago, these brothers were not saviours, they had an altogether different role, they were a firing squad designed to bring down a maddened beast. 

So then he was to be denied even the hope of the long sleep and the final cure. 

So be it  he had done all he could. He had sent warning to his Allies, he could do no more.

He watched almost detached as they opened fire, tearing his body’s torso to shreds. He watched even as he fell to the floor, his life blood pouring forth in a torrent, even then he still felt no pain. 

He watched as Autemoc burst through the Purans to embrace his dying body and he could do nothing as with madness in it’s voice his form cried out calling Namacuix a traitor. 

He watched with a broken heart as he saw the anguish in Autemoc’s eyes as he thought the words were true. 

Ocelotl cried out trying once more to seize control, to tell his brother the words were false, to warn of their true enemy but he could not. 

With a soul filled with despair, he felt the darkness overcome him until there was nothing left. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Autemoc was stunned by his dying brother’s words. Unsure of what they had meant and slightly shaken, he stormed past the waiting Tonuauc, not uttering a word. He had to get back to the bridge.

‘There was no other way Brother, he was too dangerous to subdue in any other way.’ Tonuauc called out as he passed. 

Autemoc bit back a retort. There might have been other options but the Puran were notorious for their bluntness and lack of compassion. It mattered not for his Brother was dead and now he was faced with possible betrayal by another. He knew he had to get clear, to find space to ingest what he had just heard from the mouth of his fallen comrade.

The Purans let him go, they watched his departing form in complete silence. 'Burn the body' ordered Tonuauc finally breaking the silence, as his men rushed to do his bidding he struggled to hide the wretched smirk covered his features._


----------



## dark angel

I had worried you had abandoned this my friend! Glad to see it is still in the works, I can't pick out anything major from these latest parts, bar them being too awesome:grin: have some rep mate, keep up the good work!


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## Templar Marshal

Good to knew you have devotion to a excellent story like this :grin:. Another great chap +rep.


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## the_unchanged

Thanks guys you keep reading and ill keep writing!

Thank you for the rep also.

If you have the time could you maybe critique the plot and let me know if you are still following it and it makes sense to you? Also what you like about it?


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## dark angel

I will do so aye, mind you, I haven't got the time to read it at the moment, by next week perhaps?


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## the_unchanged

*blah*

Haha no rush DA just looking to see if its still enjoyable and that the story hasnt become too cluttered!


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## emporershand89

Not bad, but be more explanetory. Most Readers, even those wjo know thw history of the Blood Angels, might not know who the Reds are, you must explain it, otherwise it kinda runs the story and drives the readers away.

Besides that ecellent piece.


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## dark angel

emporershand89 said:


> Not bad, but be more explanetory. Most Readers, even those wjo know thw history of the Blood Angels, might not know who the Reds are, you must explain it, otherwise it kinda runs the story and drives the readers away.
> 
> Besides that ecellent piece.


What? These are _not_ Blood Angels, in fact I do not even think they are in this fiction...Have you read it?

TU: I'll re-read this thursday evening for you, and will get a post up what I think friday-monday  but yes, it is still enjoyable!


----------



## the_unchanged

Gorath marched smartly along the wide entrance hall of the hall of Judges, his squad mates footsteps echoing his own, as they followed in his wake. The massive hall was over a ¼ kilom long and was designed to stun all who passed along it into silence. All around them towered the massive statue forms of former Judges, those noble men who had given their lives to the Judgement of others. 

Gorath moved in silence, lost in thought, idly he fingered the wide chain blade that hung chained to his waist. He eyed the solemn statues wearily, the irony of their accusing stares not lost on him, they knew that one before them had sins to bear. 

They were here to meet with the Highest echelons of the Rainbow Warrior command, it was their honour to meet the Lord of the Skybridge himself, Lord Captain Commander Bifrost. 

Gorath was tense, it was not simply the nature of their task that bothered him or the fact that it kept them from the Slaughter of the main assault, no there was something else in the air. A taste of something wrong, something that itched his skin and made him uncomfortable. 

Behind him his squad spoke quietly to hide their own disquiet, the senses their enhanced genes gifted them were ignored as they sought comfort in their squad mates. He smelled their nervousness and it angered him almost as much as their disquiet, possibly because it mirrored his own feelings. Had they been more experienced they would have listened to those senses and prepared themselves accordingly, instead it translated into nervous chatter. This lesson they would have to learn quickly otherwise it would be likely to be fatal if it did not. 

‘Why do we continue to pander to these Rainbow Warriors?’ Growled a voice behind him, Vermoot’s, the young fool was brash and had little respect for anything or anyone outside of their Chapter, even the Emperor himself would struggle to hold Vermoot’s attention.

Gorath ignored the question but the others jumped on it. 

‘They strut about like peacocks dressed in their feathers and their ridiculous face paints, acting like they are the Emperor’s own Chosen Honour Guard.’ 

‘Face paints! And they have the cheek to call us savages!’ Called out another. 

Gorath was becoming irritated by their inane words. These young welps had no idea what it was to be a true Cleaver, free to fight under their own direction, to not be anything other than lapdogs of the Inquisition. His younger Brothers had been inducted after the great Transgression, they had known nothing else. 

‘Enough.’ he snarled. ’They are our Allies and you will respect them, if you do not you will face me in the Ring of Fangs.’ 

He glared at them, willing any of them to step forward and take up the challenge but none of them met his stare.

Silence descended once more as they continued along the final stretch towards the huge gilded oak doors that led to the Judgement Chamber, however it did not last. 

He heard a mutter for Vermoot once more, it was little more than a whisper but one any Astartes within a couple of metres could have heard. 

‘Why doesn’t Cotillion order her Red Hound to supervise them instead of us? That would knock a little of their arrogance out of them,’

‘Perhaps then he’d stop killing our brothers and take his frustrations out on them!’ it was Gerretz who spoke this time.

‘I heard he’s already been sanctioned by the High Claw for taking down one of our ’allies’ already.’

Although Gorath knew that what they spoke of was forbidden he found himself agreeing utterly. The Hound was the worst kind of punishment, thought he knew his Chapter deserved the Hound’s attentions, it did not make this most bitter of pills easier to swallow. Astoroth had already killed seven of his brothers in the ring of fangs and injured several more, he was dangerous, unpredictable and worse still, he fought and killed only those who were known to resent the Inquisition’s hold on them. 

Gorath knew that the number would only rise as more and more of his Brothers rose to the challenge of defending the Chapter’s honour and avenging those who had already fallen. He knew Brothgaar had reprimanded the Hound for his attack on the Rainbow Warrior but it had been for show only. The Talon had punished the fool as best he could but Astoroth was above his sphere of influence, it was not enough. 

His thoughts disintegrated as the sound of rattling filled his head, like wooden dice cast in a skull cap, the noise was deafening and he dropped to one knee gripping his head within his hands. He willed the noise to stop but it would not, if anything it increased in volume. Suddenly he knew what it was, he was hearing the bones being cast. He closed his eyes and suddenly found himself on Axiom his homeworld, standing dwarfed by the monolithic tower of bones, which rose up to pierce the clouds above him. He shivered as he felt his body shift once more and he found himself within the giant guild halls of his Chapters home. The air had a murky quality to it, as though he viewed it through haze filled eyes instead of his naturally perfect astartes vision. 

A dark shape loomed up before him, it’s wide cloak of darkness seeping away to join the shadows behind it, sweeping away as though into the eternity of the night sky, running on into the very void itself. Gorath dropped to his knees in supplication instantly for he knew who this was, for he had dreamt of this figure since before the very days of the great fall. 

Beneath the wide hood lay the crimson skull, that he knew would no longer haunt his mind with its accusing stare. Finally after what seemed like eternity, long skeletal fingers cast small polished bones into the wide polished skull cap of a fallen Astartes and Gorath watched them drop, like the most beautiful jewels ever wrought, they tumbled forward. In that moment he saw the significance of what they were to represent, each perfect bone was one of his Chapter Brothers and where they dropped determined how they would be punished. 

In that moment he saw the one that would be him and his eyes could focus on nothing else.

‘It is time.’ A voice like the sound of a cadaver’s rib cage splintering, spoke breaking the spell and drawing Gorath’s attention back to the figure before him once more. 

‘The bones have been cast for you a final time, your death will be the 59th token of redemption, there will be many more before our debt is repaid.’

Gorath said nothing for the bones within the plate began to vibrate drawing his eyes to them once more, in them he saw his doom. 

Finally he tore his eyes away and looked up to find the caster gone and the vision retreating to be replaced by the Hall of Judgement and the faces of his concerned squad mates. 

‘My Lord? Are you well?’ 

‘I am fine Jorrus he snapped as he rose to his feet pushing the younger warriors hand away. He continued walking on in silence, his squad quickly falling into step behind, their eyes burning holes in his back, the look on his own face brooked no other course.


Up ahead the huge forms of two Rainbow Warriors veterans in terminator plate awaited them. Tense and jittery, Gorath ran his tongue along his sharpened teeth. 

His death would happen soon, that he knew now, what he was not certain of was how it would happen. The only clue being the final vision if the bones, the one he had picked out for himself lay broken it’s head splintered. He considered ordering his squad to return to their barracks so that he could face his fate alone but he decided against it, they were as much a part of his doom as he was now. 

Perhaps it would even be one of them who delivered the killing blow, he cared not. Onwards he marched, accepting his fate with every leaden step.


----------



## Boc

And he emerges, triumphant, from the ashes  (you... not the Rainbow Warriors)

Welcome back TU. Good update!


----------



## the_unchanged

Haha thanks Boc.

I was hiding away trying to conjure more time in my day to actually write!

Missed writing this and have it all planned out (right to the finish) just need to actually get it down on screen!


----------



## the_unchanged

Vasnov crawled forward, edging towards the cusp of the hill on which
Sanetoch was already perched. He choked back a cry as he saw what awaited them below.

A sea of dead stretched across the plains, their shuffling movements swaying back and forth with an almost tidal rhythm. An eerie silence surrounded them as though any single noise would break the spell and send them tumbling back to the ground from whence they came. 

Behind the swaying horde rose the towering and imposing citadel, the source of this madness and the target of the Astartes assault. 

'A world of the dead. That is where we live, we build our cities and our lives upon untold numbers of bones and rotten flesh, our world is dying, perhaps it is even dead already and this' he waved his hand across the view 'is what lies in store for us.' 

Vasnov shook his head at the old man's haunting verse, he could see the exhaustion in his friend's eyes, exhaustion no doubt mirrored in his own. 

'Our forefathers have come for us, they seek to bring us to them to join them in the halls of death.'

Vasnov could not find it in his heart to say anything. 

'No.' 

The word caused both men to jump they turned as one to see one of the Rainbow Warriors approach, his blue armour gleaming in the waning sun light. 

Sanetoch looked up into the warriors shocking green eyes, finding a strength there, a will to deny all that would oppose them.

'No?' he uttered breathlessly, the word feeling like it would take an age to fall from his lips, it was horrifyingly unsettling to talk with an Astartes, it took all he had. 

The warrior shook his head. 'These are not your people anymore, they are only phantoms of a past long dead and buried, they are an obstacle to your future and they will bar your way no longer.'

Vasnov simply stared dumbly and it was Sanetoch who once more had the gall to question this demi-god. 

'There are millions of them and we are but a few, even as powerful as you are, how can you possibly hope to destroy that?' He thrust his hand forward and pointed to the horde.

The warrior shook his head as an adult might when questioned by a child, 'Such doubts, have you not seen the work of the Emperor's weapons before? Did you not watch as we strode through fire and death to assist you in your war? A war that others would have called hopeless?'

'We had no choice in that, it was fight or die.' Sanetoch whispered, humbled by the Astartes words. 

'Well now you have two choices, give up and wait to die.' 

'And the other?' 

'Or believe now and place your solar visors over your eyes and wait.'

'W-w-why? I do not understand.' It was the boy who spoke this time. 

The Astartes laughed, a strangely human chortle from one who seemed so much more than a man. 'Why Tlacelel's wrath of course.'

Both began to speak but he silenced them by placing one finger to his pursed lips then pointed to their solar visors. 'It is time.' 

They rushed to comply as a strange whine filled the air. 

'Hurry' was all the warrior said, as the noise rose to a pitch that tore at their ears and threatened to deafen them.

Both clasped their hands to their ears until it felt like they could take no more, abruptly it ended as though the noise was sucked back from whence it came, this feeling intensified as though all other sounds were sucked into the void too, it was the strangest experience either of them had ever felt and yet it was only preamble to what was to come. 

Suddenly the sky split, there was no other way of describing it, and a harsh purple light burned everything in sight. It enveloped everything within it's terrible glare, then it was gone, leaving only a terrifying column of white light that reached from the heavens to strike the ground. Had they not been wearing their visors they would have been blinded and they yelled at the intensity of the sight.


It occurred to Sanetoch then, as he watched the noble Astartes stand before him; unflinching, head bared in defiance, as the sky was torn asunder in a storm of raw power, that he would remain loyal to the Imperium until his death.

For to do otherwise would mean not only facing the God's wrath unleashed before him and dying at the hands of his Custodians, such as the one who stood before him, but also it would mean denying himself the chance to stand beside such warriors as this one. To fight until his last breath and to spit into the eyes of the xeno and archenemy, those who would oppose his God's will.

'Praise Tlacelel,' he whispered as the storm of power finally subsided, its energy spent, the sky returning to its normal blood bruised hue. 

Before them now only lay kilom after kilom of scorched earth. Of the Hostiles there were few left, their shambling forms struggling to regain their feet after the onslaught of a God. 

'What?' replied the boy, not quite sure what his comrade had said. The after wash of the orbital assault buffeting them with sharp blasts of wind and muffling all sound. 

'Praise Tlacelel.' The old man replied, louder this time, he was unable to keep the grin from his face as he spoke. 

'Yes, praise the Emperor, for nothing can stand before his wrath.' came the booming voice of the Astartes, he nodded to them, 'My name is Xilonen and it will be a great honour to fight beside you this day.' 

Before they could reply a huge grin split his stony features, he saluted them by punching his fist to his chest, then with a terrifying degree of speed for one so big, the marine drew his powerful blade, a broadsword as long and as wide as a fully grown man. 

'To battle my brothers, it is time for us to end this.' It was clear by his tone that these words were spoken to not only them but others unseen.

With that he roared and charged down the small pad towards what remained of the shambling hostile force, his every footfall echoed by the booming bark of bolter rounds as his unseen brothers joined him. 

'Well lad, do you want to live forever?' Before the boy could answer, Sanetoch roared and charged after the Astartes, his actions aping the other warrior's. 

For the first time in a very long time, the boy laughed, he laughed until the tears streamed down his face.


----------



## the_unchanged

*update 14/07*

Joruus and his squad mates strode smartly into the Hall of Judgement behind their Lord. Strutting like young princes new to Court, they eyed the Halls inhabitants disdainfully, with heads held as was right of an Emperor’s Cleaver they took up station behind Gorath and waited. 

Joruus almost grinned as he watched Sauron try to stare down a Rainbow Warrior veteran, the younger warriors glare declaring that he would not be cowed. His brothers were proud warriors and though they were faced by the best warriors of a powerful Chapter they would not back down. 

He gripped the haft of his chain glaive tightly, keeping his thumb near the ignition stud as he surveyed his surroundings. Rainbow warriors lined the curved walls of the Hall, their massively armoured forms unmoving, still almost like statues. Each of them held assault weapons only for ranged weapons were forbidden within this most sacred of Chambers. Though it was not these veterans in their exquisite armour that had held the Cleaver’s attention, that right was reserved for the massive warrior who lounged upon the High Judge’s throne, the floating platform giving him ample view of his newly arrived guests. 

This must be Bifrost, Lord of Priism, Steward of the Skybridge and Chapter Master of the Rainbow Warriors. Joruus was loathe to admit that even he felt dwarfed by the veteran Lord’s aura of power. 

When he finally spoke, the Rainbow Warrior’s Lord voice thundered across the hall.

“So finally I meet my brother warriors of the Illustrious Emperor’s Cleavers Chapter.” 

Joruus found himself jarred by the mocking tone of Bifrost’s words, they lacked the respect due, though he was little surprised by such actions. 

“My Lord,” responded Gorath, “may your hands be covered by the blood of a thousand of your enemies,” he touched his forehead in salute, before continuing, “you do us much honour by receiving us as allies. My Lord Brothgaar sends his regrets that it could not be him stood before you but he had already departed for the front with her Lady Cotillion when he received your request, he hopes you are not too displeased by this fact.” 

Finally Gorath bowed and Joruus and his brothers echoed the movement as protocol demanded. 

“I will ignore Brothgaar’s slight for the mean time, though I have a request of his envoy.”

“Of course my Lord.” responded Gorath. 

“Kneel.” 

“My Lord?” Gorath looked genuinely confused by the request. 

“Come now, are the hounds of Axiom to proud to kneel before their betters?” A small glint of amusement was apparent in Bifrost’s eyes though Joruus was unsure whether he was serious or not. His enhanced hearing picked out faint echoes of laughter coming from the Rainbow Warriors around them, the first sign that anyone even inhabited those ancient suits. 

Behind him, Gerretz, the squads most junior member called out in anger. 

“My Lord? You would allow these peacocks-” Gorath silenced the young marine with a growl. The fool would pay for that, Gorath did not tolerate lapses in discipline and would ensure Gerritz faced him in the Ring of Fangs, Joruus knew Gerritz would be lucky to escape with his life. 

Joruus said nothing, he knew that when two Chapters met a certain amount of bravado would be on show as both vied for dominance, the natural aggression of Astartes rearing its ugly head. 

The cruel smirk never left Bifrost’s face, even when he spoke again, lowering his throne so that he floated to ground level. 

“No you only kneel for one master do you not, the faceless Lords of the Ordos.”

Joruus looked across at Gorath and his thoughts darkened, the smile on his Lord’s face aped that of Bifrost’s but it was twisted as though to convey a very different emotion. 

The feeling that something wrong itched at him, he dearly wished his Lord to speak, to break the silence instead Gorath maintained his silent stare, the horrific quiet stretching out like the seconds before Charging assault met defensive line or executioner’s axe dropping to remove a guilty head. 

Gorath was whispering now, his muted words hard even for Joruus’ enhanced hearing to take in, instead the younger warrior strained to read his lips. 

_ My debt repayed _ Joruus was unsure what the words actually meant. 

As he strained to catch more the old warrior’s head simply burst. 

Joruus didn’t think he merely reacted, throwing himself to one side even as the left hand side of his face blossomed with pain.

He rolled to his knees feeling weak and disorientated, he eyed the room warily with his one remaining eye. He noticed that all of his fellow squad mates lay dead upon the floor, it was then that he saw the the bolter tracking him and rolled to one side. Then as his brain struggled to rectify his aim , trying to compensate with the lack of depth perception, he pulled his glaive back and slung it forward, igniting the glaives motor even as it flew from his grasp. 

It struck the bolter in a shower of sparks, tearing the weapon from it’s owner’s grip. Joruus was up and moving, his brain now calculating his chance of survival in open combat. The odds came back as less than point two percent. He roared in anger as he moved towards the Halls great exit doors, knowing that he must warn the High Claw. 

He heard bolter fire and flung himself forward but he knew it was too late, they were too fast. He felt his legs disintegrate below his knees as several rounds struck. Agony flooded his body and his suit surged with combat drugs and adrenaline shots in reaction. He fell forward, his heavy armour clattering loudly on the floor. 

He dragged himself forward once more, moving a few paces before a massive pressure pushed down on his back pinning him to the floor. 

He grunted in pain as he was kicked hard, rolling him over onto his back. The armoured form of Bifrost filled his vision. 

Staring up in defiance he met his assailant’s eyes. He spat a gobbet of bloody flesh onto the Bastard’s pristine armour, smiling weakly as the acidity of his saliva ate at the blue paint. 

“Such heroic nonsense, your foolish defiance gains you nothing. “ The Lord of Priism smiled cruelly, before kicking the prone marine in the face. 

“My brothers will avenge me, the High Claw will tear your traitorous head from your shoulders.” Roared Joruus as he spat out his broken teeth. 

Bifrost’s grin split wider. “Of course they will and I will kill them as well for it is not only your pathetic geneseed I seek.” 

He hefted his weapon above his head, a beautifully wrought crystal power sword that shone in the chambers light. 

Joruus did not move, he was too shocked by Bifrost’s words, horrified at the idea of a Chapter pillaging the lifeblood of another. 

Finally the blade fell removing the young cleaver’s head. Bifrost turned back to his men.

“Bring in the bodies of the Militia men, then dismember these,“ he kicked Joruus’ body, “take only the torsos.”

The warrior’s around the room bustled into activity, moving quickly to fulfill their Lord’s orders. They lifted the bodies with ease, gathering them as a child might firewood.

“What of the Azul?” Queried one as his Lord passed. 

“Leave him, he belongs to Namacuix, if he escapes the detonation then so be it, he will be none the wiser to what actually happened.”

“and if not?” replied the warrior.

“Then his death will be avenged.” Called back Bifrost as he strode from the hall.


----------



## dark angel

Finally caught up with all of this, and I must say, it is pure excellent. I have one request dude: Please give us a fiction on the Cleavers after this :grin: have rep dude, keep up the good work.


----------



## the_unchanged

*Update 19/07*

Orinir's eyes were glued to the view screen, he stared aghast at what was happening. His heartbeat quickened as he realised what he was witnessing. A wry smile crossed his features. 

It seems he had stumbled onto what he was looking for without having to pursue it, Bifrost had just handed him the key to what he needed. Better still Cotillion had no idea of the favour he was about to gain in spite of her. 

Let the young witch chase her ghosts, what Orinir had just discovered was much more tangible, it would not slip through his fingers like the Revenant would hers. He had achieved his part of their task, though he was sure she would not. 

He watched with a delicious thrill as Bifrost strode down from the throne and moved towards the stricken Cleaver. 

Lotan, his master, had been right all along, the knight would be the key, Bifrost, through his own actions would deliver his Chapter into Lotan's waiting hands. 

He licked his lips as Bifrost let his blade drop, removing the young marine's head. Listening closely to their words he realised what they intended to do to cover their tracks. He clicked a small trigger on the side of the viewer and the mem slate slid free, he gripped it gingerly then turned away.

_Yes_ he thought,_ I will be rewarded greatly for this_. He dropped the small plate into his surcoat jacket. Then walking with a new brevity in his stride he hurried from the room.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

Finally, I managed to catch up... It's just getting deeper and deeper... And its irresistible to point of addiction... I'm not kidding... REP MATE...

I got just one thing to point out though... The word kiloms is used by the Valhallans... If I remember correctly, the inhabitants of the planet weren't that...

Cheers mate!....


----------



## the_unchanged

As per Dark Angel's request I've added a new Dramatis Personae for this. It's now attached to the first post. 

Is anyone reading this other than those who have posted? would be nice to hear from some fresh faces....


----------



## dark angel

The newest part is short and sweet mate! Oh, and good work on the Dramatis Personae, much easier  plus rep!


----------



## the_unchanged

The Sky above Sanetoch rumbled with thunder as the clouds unleashed their payload of fat, oily raindrops, seeming to weep from its earlier abuse by the astartes vessel floating in its atmosphere. 

The ground below his feet was transformed by the deluge into a festering quagmire. He found it hard to keep his footing but dared not look down for fear of what he would see. He knew that it was not only rainwater that drenched his feet, just as he knew that not all of the liquid that splashed the exposed parts of his face was natural. The air reeked of a hundred different smells, most unpleasant, some downright overpowering. He gagged once more as something thick and moist landed in his mouth, he spat it out, retching as he did so. He stumbled and fell to his knees, eyes blinded by tears. 

All around him the carnage continued unabated, a thin wedged line of blue and green armoured forms battered back a sea of the undead creatures. Deigning it a waste of ammo, the astartes had decided against ranged weaponry and were instead assaulting the enemy with a bewildering array of melee and assault weaponry. It was relentless, the horde pushed forward in a crushed mass while the marines tore into them with blades, axes, glaives, maces, hammers and in some cases bare hands and brute strength. The Horde were as meat to the astartes grinder. 

Every so often one of the astartes would disappear under the numberless mass only to reappear several metres away, their armour dented and bloodied. Slowly the marines were forcing the sea of hostiles back towards the walls of the Citadel. 

The noise was thunderous, the chopping and the cutting sounds only drowned out by the horde’s moaning and the astartes munitions as the strived to create a breach in the walls of the Citadel. The boy Vasnov stumbled by his face contorted by mixed emotions, crying and laughing in equal measure as he stared at the horrors all around them, his shotgun blasting at the numerous corpses at his feet. 

He realised then that they should not be here, on the hill he had been caught up by Xilonen’s words, the astartes presence filling his old bones with new vigour, refreshing his need to see this ended, to take revenge. Here though now, amongst this battle between demi-gods and Demons. He was just a man, what glory could he gain on such a battlefield?

_Was this the true power of the Emperor? Where his actions irrelevant?_

-NO- 

A voice penetrated his dark thoughts and spoke directly to his mind, he looked up anxiously seeking its source. He noticed that one of the astartes had moved away from the fight and was heading towards him, disturbingly eldritch fire cascaded forth from where the warrior’s eyes should be. 

-THE EMPEROR’S STRENGTH IS IN MEN LIKE YOU, IT BLEEDS FORTH IN YOUR ACTIONS SUCH AS THE FIGHT AT THE WALL- 

The figure spoke but his mouth did not move to form the words. 

-YOU HAVE FEAR, YOU KNOW IT AND YET YOU FACE IT REGARDLESS, FOR THAT I AM THE ONE WHO ADMIRES YOU AND THOSE LIKE YOU, FOR THAT EMOTION IS A STRANGER TO ME AND MY KIN. -

With each closing step Sanetoch felt stronger, his mind less cluttered with thoughts of hopelessness, as though a great crushing weight was being lifted from his shoulders. He watched as the warrior reached out and touched the boys forehead lightly, the younger man fell silent suddenly, as though he had shaken free from the shackles of madness. 

‘Your eyes….’ the boy whispered finally. The marine raised his hand as though to touch his face, seemingly conscious of his strangeness. He stopped short as though unaware of what he was doing, it was a surprisingly human gesture from someone so post human. 

‘I had forgotten how disconcerting they can be for those not of my kin. My chapter has many rituals, though this is perhaps one of the most archaic. I am a through seer.’ The warrior noticed the confused look on the their faces as though they were unsure of the term. 

‘I am a psyker, my mind is dangerous, it must be protected in every way possible.’

A shocked look of understanding passed across Sanetoch’s face. 

‘The eys are windows to your soul…’ 

‘As I said it is an ancient practice, one we have never abandoned.’ 

Sanetoch nodded grimly, truly these astartes were of a different breed.

The marine saluted to them by touching his hand to his forehead before lifting it forward. 

‘I am Monvath.’

‘I am Sanet-’ the marine nodded. 

‘I know.’ Sanetoch smiled sheepishly embarrassed by his foolishness. 

Suddenly the marine looked up and into the distance, as though seeing something they could not. 

‘Gather your weapons, it seems the Commander has need of our assistance.’

With that he turned and moved off quickly leaving the two men to follow in his wake.


----------



## the_unchanged

Cotillion stood watching the assault, her face twisted in fury. Beside her, Captain Marius Jax of her Inquisition stormtroopers waited patiently for her orders. 

'They are not progressing quickly enough!' She growled finally breaking the silence. 

'We do not have the numbers my Lady, we were not prepared for the sheer size of the enemies force. Even with the vaunted astartes beside us it will take time, there are simply too many of them.' Jax stared straight ahead as he spoke unable to meet his Lady's angry gaze. 

'Contact the_Blade of Faith_, order them to prepare another orbital strike, sweep the plains clean of these disgusting creatures.' 

'With all due respect maam, I believe the Lord Inquisitor would take umbrage if you killed the astartes.' Jax replied calmly. 

She turned to him fury clear in her eyes. 'Contact Brothgaar, order him to prepare for a deep strike insertion.' 

Shock filled Jax's face. 'but my Lady, the odds of a successful insertion without a locator are-' 

Cotillion cut him off before he could finish,'I am well aware of the risks Captain but I will not be denied my quarry.' 

'As you wish my Lady' Jax replied before turning to one of his men and nodding slightly, the other soldier immediately activated his vox and began the communication protocols. 

'Ready your men Captain I intend to be inside that Citadel as soon as is possible.'

As Jax moved off bellowing orders she once again returned her attention to the distant ruin. 

'You will not escape me this time.'


----------



## the_unchanged

Namacuix felt his blood boil at the sight of the immense battle line being drawn before him; he itched greatly to join his brothers, the blood marks upon his face burned with the flames of war, calling him to rush forward and fight. He rubbed his chhek absentmindedly, ‘soon’ he whispered soothingly. 

He knew the Thunderhawks were coming, even before he heard them. Autemoc’s curt orders poured through over his internal helm comm. The Admiral was moving with swift alricity to deal with the surprising numbers that had burst forth from the Citadel to meet their attack head on. Namacuix knew that the left wing of the assault line was in danger of collapsing under the sheer weight of the Horde’s numbers and that even now, Ancient Vaxellon and his dreadnought brothers moved to bolster the flagging line. He knew that the armour he now stood with, the few typhoons, razorbacks and predators they had brought planetside would create a breach in the citadel walls with their munitions within the next few hours. 

He knew that the cleaver contingent that fought beside his brothers was in danger of pushing too far ahead of the main line and that Brothgaar had been alerted to reign them in. He soaked in all of this information and added his own orders, as he watched the expert skills of his anaran brethren as they skirted the Thunderhawks dangerously close to the main line, dropping their deadly payloads, carpets of fire blossoming in their wake, the flames close enough to the Astartes line that it licked at their armour. 

It was almost time for him to join the main assault, he had tarried this long due to an unnatural feeling that the armour would be a target for the enemy but it seemed that his fears were unfounded. 

It was then that he noticed dark shapes moving upon the citadel’s crumbling ramparts, his enhanced vision struggling to identify what they were. He growled as his helmet’s occular magnification revealed them to be Armour forms. 

‘Anarans target the enemy on the walls!’ he yelled to those marines in charge of the tanks, even as he watched the creatures move huge sniper cannons into position, soon they lanced out at the astartes blow, a trio of shots in quick succession punching three of his brothers from their feet. He was shocked to see only one of them rise again. 

‘Use the Lascannons! Clear the walls!’ He yelled as the anarans controlling the support weapons nodded their assent and lasfire began to target the warriors on the walls. He knew this would delay the creation of the breach but he was not prepared to allow his brothers to be picked off so easily, out there they were sitting targets, mired as they were amongst the horde. 

The ground beneath the predator that Namacuix was perched upon suddenly shifted throwing him forward to the ground, he rolled as he landed, rising quickly his weapons drawn. His lightning reactions saved him once more as the body of the tank rose skyward before toppling towards where he landed, he threw himself clear as something massive pulled itself free of the earth’s grip. He yelled an oath and raised his weapons as he saw the armour form pulling itself clear to rise to its full height, dirt cascading forth from its torso. 

His shots punched its chest in stinging bursts but the creature showed no reaction, instead it raised one massive fist and lashed out at the prone predator, crushing its hull and smashing it in half. 

-AIM FOR THE CHRYSTAL ON ITS TORSO - a voice tore into his mind, directing him, Namacuix reacted instantly to his brother’s command. He raised the bolter to his left eyelet and sighted along the barrel. He fired twice, he hoped the first would destroy the target but centuries of warfare had taught him never to naïve enough to believe it would be. The first bolt glanced off, cracking the casing while the second crashed home moments later destroying the chrystal. The creature tumbled forward like a puppet with its strings cut, its heavy form crumpling to the ground. Taking no chances the azul ran forward to plunge his power sword into the open wound. 

He looked up to se Monvath and his two wards approaching.

‘Thank you Brother,’ he called out before saluting.

Monvath punched his fist to his breast plate saluting back. ‘It is the simplest way to end their threat,’ Namacuix nodded as the older warrior continued, ‘I am only sorry I could not sever the link myself, alas I am not as powerful as my other brothers.’ 

Namacuix was stunned by his comrades modesty, Monvath was the commander of the normally aloof Amarils, his words made Namacuix think it was perhaps time to reappraise his opinion. 

‘More of them!’ cried out the younger of the two militia men before he and Sanetoch charged forward firing weapons at the shambling figures moving towards their position.

‘Strange company you keep Amaril.’ Namacuix called out to Monvath. 

‘Aye it seems your plans to integrate us back into the Imperium are coming to fruition.’ Called back the other marine before charging after his wards. 

Namacuix grinned wryly at the statement wondering why he had not spoken to the Amaril Lord more. Perhaps here was an other potential ally in his war. He decided that he would pursue it further once the citadel was cracked open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He squinted in the darkness trying to work out where he was. He did not know how he had ended up here but everywhere he ran his hands he felt only solid walls. He sighed in frustration as he toppled backwards his weakened leg unable to support him and his cane must have been lost whenever he was brought here. 

He cursed his own weakness and punched the floor hard, if only he had been able to run quicker he could perhaps hav caught up with Nama before he went planetside, though if wishes were bolt rounds then mankind would have no enemies left. 

He contemplated crying out but was unsure what kind of attention it would warrant, his captor would obviously have ensured he was outside of ear shot. 

He dearly hoped that his brother was not naïve enough to fall for any of Heimdallr’s untraths but then his brother had no reason to suspect the Verdant. 

Again his anger spilled over, he could not believe the old man was the traitor, that his madness could have gone unchecked for so long and that Namacuix would have no idea of the viper amongst them. 

He felt impotent and it was not for the first time, the irony of his current fate was not lost on him once more he was a burden on his brother.

It was then that he heard the sound of metal scraping on metal as though a bolt was being drawn back, he backed away from the sound pushing himself hard against the furthest wall. He winced as sharp light burst into the room, his hands placed over his eyes, he looked up to see a massive figure step forward from the light. 

‘Come Ictlan I have a task for you.’ 

The figure moved forward a long sharp needle glinting from the light, held fast in its hand. 

Ictlan yelled in dismay as he was seized and held fast. 

‘This might hurt a little.’ growled Heimdallr, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namacuix nodded to Monvath who moved off to protect the two militia men while he himself directed the Anarans to turn their weapons on the newly discovered enemy. They bustled forward with teams of servitors directing their mounted larcenous on the larger forms, while heavy bolter fire strafed the shambling horde. 
Namacuix roared as a trio of Armour forms smashed into one of the typhoons, he charged for ward as the first was punched from its feet by lascannon fire, he surged past the falling enemy and swung his blade hard into the second knee joint of a second. The Armour form lashed out with its chain fist but Namacuix easily ducked the clumsy attempt. He then pulled his blade clear and fired several bolts at the weakened joint. The creature stumbled and Namacuix shouldered its unbalanced form backward, it toppled to the ground and Namacuix was upon it, smashing its torso with his power sword, he crushed the Chrystal first but continued to strike crushing the chest piece utterly. 

‘Namacuix? Captain I must inform you -’ Autemoc’s transmission was cut short as a blow struck him from behind.

He was sent flying, landing hard and rolled uncontrollably into the broken form of the first downed machine. He tried to rise to his feet but the knee joint of his armour was buckled it would take him several seconds to break off the armour, several seconds he didn’t have. He tried anyway, firing his bolter at the approaching form of the third machine. Static filled his comm. 

Suddenly the armour form buckled backwards as more bolter fire struck it, a figure in the blue armour of a Rainbow Warrior strode into view snarling as it continued to pump bolt rounds into the Armour form. 

Namacuix was shocked to see who his saviour was.

‘Tezuma!’


----------



## the_unchanged

Ictlan fell to is hands his knees, his entire body was aflame with agony. His muscles tensed and flexed uncontrollably and his mouth flooded with blood as he bit his tongue hard. He screamed and writhed on the floor his hands and feet clawing for purchase. 

Through it all Heimdallr simply watched, amusement written upon his features.

‘Don’t fight it Ictlan, let your anger pur forth.’ He spoke the words quietly as though trying to calm the human. 

Finally he reached forward lifting Ictlan’s prone form up. 

‘Namacuix!’ Ictlan half growled half spat as he was hoisted onto the marine’s shoulder. 

Images flooded Ictlan’s mind from the darkest recesses of his soul. He saw the day his Brother was chosen and he was forsaken to a life of servitude. A seething kernel of Envy and Loss that had been hidden so deep within him that he barely knew it existed was suddenly unleashed. Everything else was forgotten, so much so that all he wanted to do was kill his Blood brother to….. A tiny memory of who and what he was surfaced briefly before it was washed away entirely and there was only blood and rage.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


Monvath growled as he saw the other Rainbow Warrior approaching. 

‘Rojan.’ He growled.

‘Get behind me.’ he called out to sanetoch and the boy, confused they did as they were ordered. As the snarling marine with the red shoulder pad continued to advance towards them a second Rainbow Warrior stumbled from the smoke, limping badly. 

‘Tezuma! My Captain?’ he cried out, anguish clear in his voice. The other warrior looked back at the cry a blank expression plain on its face, before continuing forward towards Monvath and his charges. 

+No+ a new voice called out, its tone tinny and robotic. +He is no longer Tezuma, the Tide has taken his mind but we now have some measure of control.+

Monvath raised his force staff as the creature known as Tezuma came nearer.

+Do not provoke him Amaril, you are not his target.+ The voice called out as Tezuma passed them, roaring at the horde and charging forward to join the battle line. 

‘What is the meaning of this Anaran? Are you saying you have control of this Rojan?’

The Anaran turned to Namacuix noticing the Captain staring at the departing Red with sadness writ clear upon his features. 

‘I am sorry Tezuma,’ Namacuix whispered, ‘and I am Sorry also to you Monvath.’ 

‘Sorry for what Captain? I do not understand.’ Monvath replied uncertain of the Captains words.

‘Project Marionette was designed by the Anarans to bring the reds back under control, it seems it was a success.’

+Partial only My Lords, there are many who are still not ready for the implants.+

Namacuix nodded. 

‘So this is what you have been hiding from us Anaran, is this why one of my men was killed did he discover your secret?’ Monvath retorted angrily, the warp fire from his eyes cascading forth in raging torrents. 

The anaran bristled at the Amaril’s words. ‘My brother was killed too.’

‘Enough!’ Roared Namacuix suddenly. ‘No one is to fault for you brother marines deaths, the Tide took them, Heimdallr has confirmed it. They killed each other in their madness.’ 

He strode to stand before the Lord of the Amarils. ‘Forex and his Anarans have pledged themselves to the unity of this Chapter, I see now that I should have asked the same of you and I regret deeply that I did not. The subterfuge I have engaged in was necessary for few others have proved themselves trustworthy.’

Monvath nodded sadly, ‘This is true, I regret also that my brothers and I have separated ourselves from our fellow Rainbow Warriors, I can see that what you do is for the good of the Chapter.’ 

He knelt before the Azul Lord. ‘I now pledge myself to the defence of my Chapter and to push for its unity wherever possible. The regret I have felt at the loss of brotherhood between us has burdened me long enough.’

Namacuix offered his hand and Monvath took it. 

The Amaril rose to his feet and nodded to the Anaran. ‘I apologise to you brother, my words were hasty and spoke in anger, my company places no blame at your door.’ Though the words seemed a little hollow to Namacuix’s ears he could not fault them.

The Anaran simply bowed, the respect in the gesture clear. 

+ I was not sent only to conform the success of the Project and the deployment of the Reds, the Lord Admiral bid me find you, he has news for me to relay+

Namacuix turned to the Anaran. ‘It seems my helm comm was damaged during the fight with the Armour forms.’

+Lord Autemoc sends a warning or rather he sends two. The first is that the Inquisitor moves to deep Strike, she intends to teleport herself and a small team directly inside the Citadel.+

‘Impossible! The odds of success are severely limited.’ Namacuix sneered.

+Nevertheless that is what she intends. +

‘What she intends is to get herself and her men killed by taking on whatever lies within the heart of the citadel herself! Why am I wasting the lives of my men when I could have just let her do that from the start.’ 

His words were heated and dripping with anger, He feared what his men would think of their allies actions. 

‘You cannot control the Inquisition Namacuix. No matter how much that jars, our brothers will understand that.’ Namacuix thought for a moment that perhaps his brother had read his mind but then he realised the look on his face was clear for a ll to see. 

‘You are right Monvath, there is little to be done, the Assault must continue as before only now me must buy the Inquisitor time by distracting the remainder of the Citadel’s forces.’ 

Monvath nodded. ‘I will instruct my men to offer what protection they can from outside of the walls.’ 

Namacuix turned to the citadel once more as if straining to see the Amarils and the wayward inquisitor. Finally he spoke. 
‘And the second?’

+There has been a bomb attack on the Hall of Judgement my Lord.+

Namacuix turned round shock writ clear on his face. 

‘You are sure of this?‘

+Aye my Lord, reports from the PDF confirm it. As does Lord Bifrost.+ the techmarine seemed confused by Namacuix’ demeanour.

‘So the old fool survived it then? Mores the pity.’ Monvath’s comment echoed Namacuix’s own thoughts. 

‘Any casualties?’ 

+A full squad of Cleavers was killed, your man Borlung was injured, several civilians were also caught by the blast.+

Namacuix was relieved to hear that Borlung had survived but the news of the demise of the Cleavers would only mean problems. 

‘Was it an attack by the enemy?’ 

The anaran eyed the two militiamen wearily, seeing this Namacuix nodded to Monvath. The Amaril’s eyes flares and he nodded. The two human’s eyes glazed over. ‘It is done they will hear nothing.’

+The Lord Commander blames the Militia. He claims they did this in revenge for the Cleaver’s brutality.+ 

Namacuix felt his anger flare once more, it seemed even his allies were fracturing.

Suddenly the Anaran cocked his head as though listening to his helm comm. 

+My Lord, there is a broadcast on all channels, it seems Lord Heimdallr is urgently trying to get a hold of you.+ 

Reaching up the marine removed his helm and passed it to Namacuix, who placed it upon his own head. 

‘Namacuix here.’ he spoke the words tiredly for he knew this could only be more bad news. 


~~~~~~~~~
‘Namacuix here.’ the words sounded tense and he knew the young Azul was tense.

‘Namacuix,’ he hissed in reply, ‘finally, I have been trying hard to reach you. It’s Bifrost my Lord, he’s gone insane.’

‘I am on route.’ 

Heimdallr grinned at the Azul’s words. Finally his plans were coming together, he dropped Ictlan from his shoulder onto the floor, the human rose quickly beating his fists hard upon the Verdant’s armour. 

‘You will need better weapons than your puny flesh if you are to kill an astartes Ictlan.’ 

He tossed a power sword and melta pistol onto the floor near the door at the far end of the room. 

‘Take them.’ Ictlan turned to greedily gather them up and as he did so, Heimdallr slid through a second door.

Ictlan growled as he turned to find himself alone, alone and armed. He gripped the weapons tightly and called out his brother’s name. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity , the door to the room opened and light streamed in.

Flinching and covering his eyes, the human looked through the entrance and spied his quarry. 

There in the other room was an armoured figure. 

Charging forward Ictlan roared. 

‘NAMACUUIIIIX!!!!!’


----------



## the_unchanged

Please let me know what you think!


----------



## dark angel

The plot continues to thicken my friend. I thoroughly enjoyed these new parts, they were perhaps the most epic. My favourite moment was when Tezuma turned up, I was hoping he would have been......Alright though, so he could have killed Bifrost in an epic duel! Plus rep dude, keep up the good work


----------



## the_unchanged

*New part 16/09*

Heimdallr rushed forward to intercept the enraged form of Namacuix, as the Azul Captain marched along the empty hall of the Abattoirium based headquarters of the defensive alliance. The place reeked of death, which seemed fitting giving the warriors it harboured. 

‘Where is he?’ Namacuix called out as he noticed the older warrior approaching, Heimdallr’s movements agitated and strange for such a normally stoic warrior. 

‘Bifrost has gone too far this time Nama, he threatens to destroy us all with his actions. He has attacked and killed a squad of Clea-’ he didn’t get to finish the sentence as Namacuix stepped in hammering the verdant’s chest plate with his fist. 

‘Quiet you old fool!’ anger pulsed at the forefront of his mind and Namacuix threatened to give into it, for he had been pushed to far this time. ‘Cotillion’s spies are everywhere.’

Heimdallr nodded and lowered his voice to a whisper that only those with the hearing of an astartes would be able to perceive. 

‘Bifrost ambushed them, then tried to cover it up by destroying the Hall of Judges. Taking their torsos, he now seeks a means to extract their geneseed.’ Heimdallr’s face was filled with a fury that matched Namacuix’s own, it seemed that the Commander had pushed even the normally calm Verdant into a rage. 

Namacuix shook his head, shocked by the stupidity of Bifrost’s actions. The old fool would make enemies of the Imperium despite Namacuix’s constant efforts to ensure the opposite. 

‘Emperor take him, if there were any witnesses then he just have damned us all. Where is he?’ Namacuix growled, gripping the hilt of his power sword tightly as he did so.

‘In the main slaughter yard, he is alone, for he sent most of his honour guard out to hunt the ‘perpetrators’ of the assault on the Judge’s Hall. The rest of the Rosians were sent to the frontline to appease you.’ 

Namacuix nodded then made to stride past him but Heimdallr caught his forearm in a tight grip. ‘Know this now, the Verdant are with you in this, I will swear an oath pledge to this effect, Bifrost must be stopped.’ 

Namacuix nodded and the Old warrior released his grip then offered his hand once more, Namacuix gripped it in the traditional way, taking the forearm below the shoulder in a tight grip before releasing it, then saluted. He then turned and began to run down the long hall towards the slaughter yard.

He barely slowed as he approached the massive slaughteryard doors, sixteen inches thick durasteel plated and designed to withstand bustling cattle, they shattered inwards as the Rainbow Warrior charged them, shoulder lowered. 

Entering the main yard, he found himself confronted a scene of carnage that halted him in his tracks, several of the slaughtering pens had been completely destroyed and there were plasma and power sword marks upon several of those that still stood. Puddles of blood were dotted around the hay covered floor, while spattering of gore covered much of one side of the yard. All of this Namacuix took in, in the mere seconds he took to find his target. 

There standing before him, his amour dented and pitted from power sword strokes, burned and scorched by plasma, was Bifrost. 

The Chapter Master turned, his breathing heavy, to display a face covered in blood and deepened with sadness. The older warrior looked down once quickly before returning to the newly arrived Namacuix.

It was then that Namacuix’s eyes were drawn to the broken figure at the other warriors feet. 

Face towards him, eyes staring serenely was Ictlan. Had it not been for the unnatural angle of his neck, Namacuix could almost have believed his brother was still alive. Instead the truth hit him harder then any ballistic weapon ever could

Something snapped inside him and anguish poured through him, like flames to a fuse. He screamed as the loss sought to vent itself. 

Something akin to apprehension spread quickly across Bifrost’s face, for he knew that Namacuix was the one warrior who could oppose him and realistically defeat him. The Captain of the Azul’s was an adept warrior and had more experience than many of the Rosians under Bifrost‘s command. 

‘I am sorry Namacuix,’ The Chapter commander backed away, raising his hands, the gauntlets upon them still stained with the blood of Ictlan, ‘He attacked me, there was little I could do.’ 

Namacuix followed him, movin forward with slow, definite steps until he stood over the body of his brother. Kneeling to touch his hand to Ictlan’s cold forehead, he lowered his own head, cupping his hand over his face. 

‘What fresh betrayal is this? My brother? My blood?’ Namacuix turned to Heimdallr, ‘Help him Heimdallr, you are an apothecary, help him!’

Heimdallr looked at him sadly and shook his head. ‘I cannot lad, he is gone.’ 

Watching this exchange from afar, Bifrost called out. ‘It was the Tide, it took him, I couldn’t reason with him.’

Namacuix’s head shot up, ‘The Tide?’ he rose to his feet, ‘The Tide is _our_ curse, an _Astartes_ curse, how could a human be affected by it?’ 

‘Namacuix speaks the truth.’ reinforced Heimdallr. 

Bifrost shot him a murderous look, ‘Shut up you old fool, I have no reason to lie!’ 

Heimdallr was now quivering with rage, his sagacious face, twisted into a sneer, ‘You go too far Bifrost, you have brought this Chapter to its knees, the Verdants will no longer support your madness, it is bad enough that you now seek to taint our alliance with the Imperium, worse that you would seek to use my men to help you harvest pillaged geneseed!’

‘I did what needed to be done,‘ Bifrost growled in reply, before turning to Namacuix. ‘Namacuix you will listen to me,’ some of the authority crept back into his voice, ‘I do not seek a confrontation, we are your true blood, not Ictlan. Do not bring this Chapter to war with itself, only those who seek to harm us will profit from such weakness.’

Namacuix could barely hear the words the other warrior said, his rage was overcoming the rational voice inside him. He wanted to kill his brother’s murderer, to kill the man who sought to destroy his Chapter. To do this, though, to do this would mean killing a fellow astartes, his own superior no less. His genetically indoctrinated sense of duty warred with his need for vengeance. 

In the end it was the darkness that won out, he decided that this needed to end.

‘Enough! There are no others. Only you and I.’ Namacuix pointed an accusing finger at Bifrost, before stabbing it back to his own chest, ’Only we will decide the future of this chapter. I have let your madness consume you, for that I am truly sorry but now you have allowed your madness to consume our Chapter and it has cost the blood of my brother and my allies and that I cannot allow, this ends now.’ 

Namacuix had barely finished the sentence before he was moving towards Bifrost, the Commander barely had time to register his surprise before Namacuix was upon him. 

Bifrost swung shadow bane upwards, the tip of the crystalline blade connecting with Namacuix’s chin and tearing up through the flesh and rupturing his right eye. Seemingly repulsed by drawing the blood of a Rainbow Warrior the blade twisted in Bifrost’s grasp deflecting the blow. 

Namacuix was relentless, blood poured forth in a torrent from his ruptured face but still he attacked, stepping forward he brutally head butted Bifrost knocking the older warrior backwards, only the stabilising force of his terminator armour kept him up right. 

Namacuix glared at him through his one remaining eye, before charging forward once more to strike Bifrost with a thunderous two handed blow, the older warrior rode the blow though before striking back his fingers splayed and aimed for his attacker’s throat. 

Namacuix blocked the blow and kicked out knocking the shadow bane from Bifrost’s grip. The two separated and circled each other. It was Bifrost who moved first, charging forward to shoulder Namacuix to the floor, before picking him in a vice like grip and trying to throttle the life from him. He hadn’t noticed his opponent pick up the slender blade from the floor as he pulled upwards.

Namacuix roared as his suit began to buckle under the pressure, the strength of the tactical dreadnought armour overpowering the lighter artificer created power armour. 

Bifrost’s grin, borne of assured victory, quickly turned to a look of surprise as Namacuix rammed Shadowbane into his stomach. 

The blade screamed as it entered the flesh of its master, causing an explosion of light that threw the two combatants apart, to land several metres away. 

Namacuix rose first, getting unsteadily to his feet before wiping blood from his face, the long wound now beginning to clot. 

He moved to wards the prone form of Bifrost, who had now only risen to his hands and knees, the wound in his stomach grievous and causing him severe pain. He reached out towards Namacuix as though pleading for mercy. 

Trying to speak, Bifrost grunted coughing up the blood, the words struggling to form.

‘You seek mercy?’ Namacuix scoffed, disgusted by the notion. 

Bifrost shook his head, ‘Behind you.’ he finally managed to blurt out before collapsing forward. 

Namacuix spun as someone grabbed him from behind, he tried to struggle but the grip was vice like, the reinforced strength of Terminator armoured gauntlets holding him fast. He growled as he felt a needle puncture his neck. Kicking back he threw himself forward as the grip was released, his vision blurred and he nearly collided with Bifrost, instead he rolled to the side and rose to his knees. 

‘Let it overcome you Lad, it is your destiny. Allow the Tide to sweep away your doubts.’ Heimdallr’s voice punctuated the fugue that surrounded him but he could not focus on the words, instead he felt an inner heat rising to the surface. He felt anger and rage course through him sweeping away all of his other thoughts. This new anger sucked away even the anguish of his brother’s death.

‘You will be the Champion of the Order of the Fiery cross, your standard will be a rallying point for all of humanity, together we will set the Imperium alight and from the ashes will arise a new order, a more powerful Empire of man that will crush all before it!’ 

Heimdallr’s words rung out around the chamber but the meant little to Namacuix, he was lost now upon a sea of rage, the rational thinking part of him, struggled not to drown in the madness. 

The faces of his enemies mashed with the faces of his friends until they too became unrecognisable, the only constant in his nightmare visions was that of himself. A mirror copy of himself was now rising from the waves and was moving to stand behind the form of Heimdallr. 

Namacuix knew almost instinctively that this is who he must destroy, that this figure was the nexus of all his woes. He rose to his feet.

Heimdallr continued to speak his words rising in choler and pitch as his madness overcame him finally as though reaching fever pitch they ended as he was struck from behind, unconscious he toppled to the floor. Behind him, gripping the bloodied haft of his crozius was Tonuauc, the Puran grimaced at the scene before him. 

‘Here lies the proof of our madness and our curse,’ he whispered, before moving to stand before Namacuix. 

‘Fight it Namacuix, what infects you is artificial, it is not real, do not let it overcome you.’ His words were soothing and spoken calmly, as though trying to coax Namacuix from his madness. 

Instead of being cowed Namacuix charged forward knocking Tonuauc to the floor, Namacuix then pummelled the other warrior, knocking the crozius from his grasp. Ripping his throat he soughtto strangle the life from Tonuauc, the Puran tried to fight back but Namacuix’s rage had given him preternatural strength. Tonuauc’s vision began to darken as the air was stolen from his lungs. 

Namacuix gripped his mirror self and throttled the warrior as hard as he could, willing his opposite self to die. All the while his own face simply stared back at him smirking as though refusing to cede. 

The rage was all that was left, the will to see himself die and to take the release that came with it was too enticing, tears of anguish ran down his face. 

It was then that he saw Ictlan, his brothers face stared back at him, sapping away the rage he felt. The acceptance medal Namacuix had been given on that fateful day when he had been chosen still hung from his brothers neck as it had done since the day Namacuix had given it to him. He remembered the pride he had saw in his brothers face that day and how it reflected his own. 

With these thoughts, he then remembered Tezuma’s words. ‘_Do not fear your destiny boy…_

He recoiled in horror as the vision of his mirror self faded and he realised it was Tonuauc who he had been trying to kill, he rolled off of the other warrior and began to breath in huge racks of air. 

‘It is done,’ rasped Tonuauc beside him, ‘ you have overcome Heimdallr’s curse.’


----------



## the_unchanged

No one loves this anymore!

*Wails* 


:laugh::laugh:
:wink:

Seriously anyone still reading this?


----------



## the_unchanged

The air around them burst into tiny bubbles of light as though they were being submerged under water and at great speeds. Though terrifying, there was a slight feeling of exhilaration for Cotillion as she had little occasion sot feel so helpless at any point of her current life. 

The bubbles of light coalesced and solidified and strange feeling of downward pressure slackened as the vision before them clarified into a long dark corridor. With a lurch that wrenched her stomach, she found herself inside that corridor. 

She angered herself by she stumbling forward only to have one of her storm troopers catch her arm, righting her. She had barely turned to see who had made the transition, when an ear piercing scream hit her both physically and mentally before ending as quickly as it had begun. She turned to see Eleth, her psyker, topple to the ground as blood spattered the inside of her visor. 

One of the storm troopers knelt to check her. 

‘Leave her she is dead.’ Cotillion realised that that would mean Rudi, her blank, hadn’t made the transition. She sighed as she realised it would mean she had only physical protection from Revenant. 

‘Sound off.’ She said and waited for her retinue to respond, she gripped the perfectly crafted needle pistol in her hand, thumbing the display rune to ensure it was still active. She then growled in frustration at the lack of responses. Seven of her storm troopers reported in while two of the Cleavers simply grunted, a quick scan confirmed the numbers. This wasn’t acceptable, either half the retinue were teleported elsewhere or they simply hadn’t made the transition. 

Worst still she feared the Astartes almost as much she detested them, she prayed to Him on Terra that they would maintain their loyalty to the Inquisition even without the threat of the Hunter Astoroth over them, the big marine another of those missing.

There was little to be done about it now she mused, then with a quick forward chop of her hand she ordered them forward. The presence of Revenant’s mind was crushing in it’s gravity, a constant presence it bore down on them constantly. A general sense of hopelessness permeated them so that even the normally stoic storm troopers seemed agitated. If it bothered the sombre Cleavers then they didn’t show it. Cotillion herself was psi-shielded ensuring that most psychic assaults had little direct affect on her but even she felt colder, somehow weaker. Only her will to see her revenge enacted upon Revenant kept her going. 

They wondered the dark passages for what seemed like hours, with only the sound of their breathing and the hum of the astartes power armour to keep them company. They doubled back at certain points and travelled in circles at others until they had reached the point before them, here Cotillion had ordered them hunker down while she decided their course. 

Almost ten metres in front of them stood huge gilded doors, broken and decrepit, they hung limp upon a burnished steel frame, the scene back lit by a pale golden light. 

She cursed as she saw the dark figures guarding the door, huge and imposing a set of armour forms stood dormant and poised. 

Cotillion raised and a hand and signalled for the two Cleavers to engage they moved forward at her bequest to draw the Armour forms out. As soon as they moved to defend their lair, Cotillion ordered five of her own troops to push forward in support. 

Left now with only herself and two of the storm troopers, they dashed forward into the dimly lit chamber, once inside they found a small dining hall, a scene incredibly juxtaposed to the austerity of the entrance. 

Standing with his back to them, a small glazed ornament in his hands was a man. His dress sense was strangely ornate and he appeared to carry no weapons that they could see. Instinctively Cotillion knew this was her quarry.

‘In the name of His Majesty’s Inquisition yield yourself.’ called out one of the storm troopers as they moved, weapons raised, to circle either side of him. ‘We have you surrounded.’

Cotillion watched enrapt as the man, now seemingly convinced of his imminent arrest, placed the small object on the table. His movement delicate he turned to face them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namacuix rose to his feet, then moved between the prone forms of Heimdallr and Bifrost to gather the Shadowbane, the weapon pulsed weakly in his hand. He hefted feeling its weight, the weapon sang its approval as he tested its strength.

‘It accepts you as its master, as we all now must.’ Said Tonuauc and Namacuix turned to find the older warrior kneeling head bowed before him. 

‘Get back on your feet Tonuauc, we will speak as equals. I am not Bifrost.’ Tonuauc did as he was bid, then turned to the two unconscious marines beside them. 

‘What shall we do with him?’ He asked finally. 

‘He will be interred and he will serve this Chapter as pertinence for his sins.’ Tonuauc nodded in agreement. 

‘and Heimdallr?’ 

Namacuix looked at him quizzically. ‘It was Heimdallr I was referring to.’ 

‘My Lord, are you sure this is your judgement? Heimdallr has betrayed this Chapter, for that he should die.’ 

‘No, for that he should be punished.’ Namacuix’s tone brooked no argument, it seemed there was a strength there that was not there before. 
‘As you desire my Commander, however perhaps it would be better if, when he is interred, his vocal faculties were to be removed. This would prevent him from spreading his derision any further.’

‘Very well, you will see to it.’ Namacuix replied before turning to the doorway.

‘And Bifrost?’ Tonuauc asked before he could walk away. 

‘Leave him, he will decide his own fate.’ Namacuix began to walk away. 

‘As you wish my Lord.’ Tonuauc followed him out, the cruel smile once more returning to his lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cotillion’s legs buckled as his eyes finally met hers. Those eyes, that face, in forty years they hadn’t changed. She was ripped back into the past her mind receding to become the terrified young girl she was all those years ago. She screamed and fell backwards to land on her rump.

Thinking she’d been harmed the Stormtroopers acted instinctively and pressed their firing studs, only in the split second it took them to do so, Revenant moved first. Raising his hand, he moved it quickly to the side as though dismissing them. They screamed as they were immolated by an eldritch flame, their flesh burned from their bones until only embers were left. 

Cotillion scrabbled backwards tears filling her eyes as Revenant moved to stand before her, his soft footsteps sounding to her like approaching death. 

‘So the fates have deigned it time for you to find me,’ he reached out his hand to her, ‘then it is time for you to learn the truth.’ 

She clenched her eyes shut as a vision burned into her mind, one so vivid she realised that it could only be a memory. It showed her Lotan ordering the extermination of her world. It had been Lotan who had ended her world not Revenant, somehow she knew the vision was the truth, just as she knew that somehow she had always known this. 

‘Now you will join me, now you will gain your true revenge.’ He turned and walked away from her, a portal opening before him, she rose to her feet and followed. Soon the room lay empty once more.


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## the_unchanged

Seriously, anyone? I could really use some comments. Coming into the home stretch and need some help and opinions.


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## ThatOtherGuy

Okay, here is a comment: Your story is excellent, your use of words is very good and its catchy (as in once you read, its hard to stop). Your story out shines most of the work here (easily mine). Don't be surprised if you don't get any comments for a very long time, that doesn't mean that no one is reading it.

Sorry that I don't have some constructive criticism, but in other words, you should be proud of yourself.


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## the_unchanged

I just wanna say how much I appreciate your comments T.O.G as they are high praise indeed. They come at a time when I ve been struggling for motivation and they have really helped! Your a great writer which makes these comments all the better. If I can ask for a little more help I would be grateful if you could tell me ofanything in the story I.e. Characters or plot that are weak and could do with improving I'd be most grateful! Don't worry if u can't your kind comments are more than enough. Thank you.


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## ThatOtherGuy

Good writer? Please... half of my work has been raped by grammar problems and messy sentences.


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## the_unchanged

ThatOtherGuy said:


> Good writer? Please... half of my work has been raped by grammar problems and messy sentences.


Does not make you a bad writer, a sloppy one maybe but not a bad writer. It's the readers who matter and you have more comments than any other story that I can see. 

Tidy up your writing and you will be one of the best on here. 

Im proud that you like my story.


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## the_unchanged

*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA*

*Purge after Reading* 

CLASSIFICATION: Primary Level Communique
CLEARANCE: Obsidian Ultra
ENCRYPTION: Cryptox v 6.6
DATE: 339.M41
AUTHOR: Operative codename - Bishop
SUBJECT: End Game 
RECIPIENT: Operative codename - The Player

The Player, 

Pieces have moved into place, opponent held in check. Endgame is now in play. 

Knight has arrived to take his place from his usurper. 

Knight has given us the key to his control. 

Bishop.

~~~~~~~


*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

Purge after Reading*

CLASSIFICATION: Primary Level Communique
CLEARANCE: Obsidian Ultra
ENCRYPTION: Cryptox v 6.6
DATE: 339.M41
AUTHOR: Operative codename - The Player
SUBJECT: End Game 
RECIPIENT: Operative codename - The Bishop

The Bishop, 

Player comes to see Endgame completed. Bishop will be rewarded. 

Knight will join the fold. 

How fares The Queen?

The Player. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


*BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY 
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA

Purge after Reading*

CLASSIFICATION: Primary Level Communique
CLEARANCE: Obsidian Ultra
ENCRYPTION: Cryptox v 6.6
DATE: 339.M41
AUTHOR: Operative codename - The Bishop
SUBJECT: End Game 
RECIPIENT: Operative codename - The Player

The Player, 

Player’s arrival will be much anticipated. Victory will be ours!

The Queen moves to strike of her own accord. Impatience grips her.

The Player. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





The cramped confines of the land raider caused the assembled officers of the Rainbow Warriors to jostle for space as they awaited Namacuix, the Lord of the Azuls having requested them to return here, for what he would have to say to them would be of great import. Surrounded by rivals and distracted by being away from the main assault, the atmosphere was tense. 

Xilonen could see it in all of their eyes, their every slight movement and if he was being honest he could see it in his own. He hoped that Namacuix would arrive soon for waiting patiently while their blood sung with the hymn of battle was not something the Rainbow Warriors did well. 

It was Bosatl who finally broke the silence, with all the brashness only a verdant could muster, his voice rang out expelling the vacuum. ‘So it’s true then,’ his eyes ran over his assorted brothers, ‘The inquisitor is inside and she needs our help?’ 

They all turned their attention to Xilonen but it was Brothgaar who answered them, the Cleaver was sullen and withdrawn angered by being left behind in Cotillion’s haste. ‘Aye, _Sah_ Jax contacted us thirty five minutes ago, he has lost contact with the inquisitor and it seems they are beset on all sides by the enemy.’ The Claw shook his head as he spoke, as though angered by her impetousness, his tongue caressed the points of his teeth as though he was chewing upon a tasteless morsel. 

‘So they expect us to save them? Expending more of our lives in a rushed assault?’ Growled the Verdant.

A huge figure growled at the back of the room.

‘Something to say Rosian?’ Called out Xilonen, ‘If you have then say it, I’ll not have your _Arc_ complaining that they don’t have a say.’

‘My Company have nothing do with this, what I say is for me alone to say, I do not speak for the Rosians.’ The commander of the Rosians replied. Xilonen had fought beside Vassilir before and he was one of the Rosians Xilonen respected. 

Xilonen nodded. ‘Then speak candidly brother, we would have your opinion.’ 

‘I concur with the Verdant, this is a waste of our time, pull back the main assault and have our ships destroy the citadel from orbit.’

Brothgaar snarled at this. ‘And kill the Inquistor and her retinue? Do this and you will face the wrath of the Cleavers.’

‘Vassilir-’ Xilonen interrupted but Vassilir held up a hand to silence him. 

‘It is clear that if the Inquisitor is not dead already, then she will be before we can reach her, she should not have separated herself from the main force.’

Normally a taciturn Commander, it seemed even Vassilir had lost patience with the Inquisitor and her current endeavour. 

Xilonen shook his head, ‘Would that we could Vassilir but the Inquisitor’s life can not be forfeited solely to provide us with less chance of losing our Brother’s lives.’

Xilonen noticed Brothgaar’s hand drop away from the pommel of his weapon as he spoke, clearly he was intent of not allowing the Rainbow Warriors the option of not acting. 

‘Then let the rojans wipe the enemy from the face of this planet, let them sell their lives instead of our own.’ Called out one of the Purans, fury clear on his face. 

There was a wave of angered words called out, showing the gathered Captains anger , that the Puran would speak so openly before an outsider. 

‘Fool. Speak not of that which we do not discuss outside of our own.’ called out Yingarna, the young Master of ceremonies. Xilonen was shocked by this, was there divisions even within the ranks of the Purans. 

‘Perhaps he is right!’ snarled Bosatl. ‘So far I see only Verdant blood spilled here, perhaps it is time for the other _Arcs_ to bear the brunt and there are none fitter for this task than the Reds!’ 

Xilonen could see that the deaths of the young scout squad played heavily in the Verdant’s mind. He decided he had heard enough. He hammered his fist down on the console before him. ‘Enough!’ 

The arguments died out at his call. Finally the Lord of the Amarils stepped forward, the eldritch fire of his eyes burning brightly, ‘The Azul is right we are all Brothers here, it is time to end this bickering.’

Xilonen nodded in the Amarils direction as he finished. ‘We will work as one to locate the Inquisitor, there will be no more division between us.’

‘Xilonen is right.’ They all turned to see who had spoke and were shocked to see Namacuix leaning against the frame of the entrance, Tonuauc supporting his other side.

They began to kneel as they saw the weapon he carried, the feathered crown of Command that sat awkwardly upon his wounded head. Even the Rosian inclined his head, the cramped confines preventing him from bending the knee of his massive armour. 

Namacuix grimaced. It was Tonuauc instead who spoke. ‘Rise brothers and look upon your new Commander.

They rose to their feet in unison, a hundred questions unasked apparent in their every movement.

Namacuix sighed, ‘All will be explained in due course, right now it seems we have a problem.’ 

‘I demand to know what has happened to Lord Bifrost.’ several of the Captains bristled at the Rosian’s words, They turned to face him putting themselves between him and Namacuix.

‘He is alive.’ 

He turned away from the Rosian. ‘With all due respect _commanded_ that’s not good enough.’ Namacuix turned to him, facing him down. ‘he is alive, Rosian and barring any foolish actions on his part that is how he will remain to be.’ 

Vassilir nodded, sensing the change in the room, ‘Very well.’ He backed away from the Azul to stand at the back of the compartment.

The assembled Captains returned their attention to Namacuix. ‘I intend to follow the Inquisitor’s lead by assembling a strike team to then teleport inside the Citadel. The Amarils will then move to support them, while the rest of the assault continue to press on. Now I will need volunteers.’

Before anyone could respond someone called out from the entrance, ‘then I will volunteer.’

Several of the characters drew their weapons as they realised who spoke, some turning to aim at Vassilir, who simply raised his hands to show that he offered no threat. 

Namacuix allowed himself a small smile, it seemed the Chapter was indeed his.

‘Lower your weapons.’ he ordered finally. 

‘Bifrost nodded, ‘I will not harm the rightful commander of our chapter.’

‘So it is true then,’ Vassilir said, the disappointment in his voice was clear.

‘Aye Vassilir, it is. I am no longer fit to lead this Chapter. The Rosians.’ his eyes fell across all of the Captains, ‘and the rest of you will now swear yourselves to Namacuix, for he is the new Master of this Chapter and the new Lord of Priism.’ 

There was a few murmurs at this as though the gravity of the situation was finally sinking in. 

‘A chance at last honour then?’ Namacuix asked, his anger only now dissipating 

‘Aye lad,’ he offered his hand to Namacuix, ‘grant me this one last boon.’ 

Namacuix took his hand reluctantly, ‘very well but you will do this without the armour of clout. You will fight as a regular brother, without this.’ he pointed to the Terminator suit. 

‘I accept and I also ask that I do this alone,’

Vassilir railed at this, ‘That is suicide. Allow me to join you!’

‘No Vassilir, you must command the Rosians in my absence, I shall take only a warhead for company, should the Inquisitor and her retinue indeed be dead, then I shall tear down the Citadel from the inside.’

Vassilir looked crestfallen, ‘Then you intend this to be your end?’

Namacuix shook his head, ‘You will not face such an end alone, two of your men will go with you.’ he knew that the old warrior deserved an honour guard. 

‘If I cannot volunteer then I will help you prepare, come my Lord,’ he moved forward to help the former Commander remove his ancient suit of armour. 

‘As for us?’ Xilonen queried. 

‘For us? The course remains the same, protect the cities while maintaining our assault, extracting ourselves only should Bifrost have need to detonate the warhead.’ 

Xilonen nodded ‘You heard the Commander, you have your orders.’ The assembled captains saluted and moved to act on Namacuix’s commands, until only Xilonen and Namacuix were left. 

Namacuix sagged onto one knee. ‘My Lord!’ Xilonen cried out, rushing forward to help his beleaguered lord. 

‘It is done Xilonen, it is done.’ Xilonen nodded but he was disturbed by the anguish he saw in Namacuix’s eyes.


----------



## the_unchanged

There was little conversation between the two Azuls as they coordinated the assault in the hour it took for Bifrost’s contingent to begin their insertion. Xilonen had many questions for his Commander but sensing Namacuix’s black mood declined from asking them. When he eventually did speak it was about Namacxuix’s wounds. 

‘You need the attention of an Apothecary Nama, your breathing is ragged and that facial wound is ugly. I’ll contact Heimdallr him order one of his Verdant’s down here.’ Xilonen said his voice low but filled with concern.

At the mention of the Verdant’s name Namacuix’s face darkened and he hammered his fist down on the tactical console before him. ‘Never mention that name again.’

Xilonen was shocked by this outburst but the dire look on his Lord’s face spoke volumes. There was a grave matter between Heimdallr and Namacuix and Xilonen wondered could possibly have angered his Lord so, it worried him greatly. 

Before Xilonen could reply, the Hatch behind them began to descend, revealing several powerful figures waiting to enter. 

Xilonen was not surprised to realise it was Vassilir and two more of the Rosians, one of them Acatlotzin, Bifrost’s adjutant . He immediately felt tense, unsure of their intent. Strangely if his Lord even noticed them he barely showed it. When Acatlotzin removed his helm, his face was a mask of fury. 

‘So finally we see the Usurper in his true colours!’ he spat, his venom clearly focussed upon Namacuix. Xilonen reached for the blade at his waist and he could see out the corner of his eye that the Anaran in the cock pit did the same. He felt a hand upon his wrist and he turned to see it was Namacuix who gripped him. The new Commander stepped in front of Xilonen. 

Vassilir placed a firm hand upon his brother’s shoulder. ‘That’s enough Acatlotzin, Namacuix has Bifrost’s blessing. He is your Commander and you will respect his position.’ 

Acatlotzin shrugged, throwing Vassilir’s hand from his shoulder, ‘Were it not for my true master’s word, I would kill you were you stand upstart.;

Namacuix shook his head, a grim smile cutting a tight swathe across his face.’ Control your charge Vassilir, his words fall on deaf ears.’

Not waiting to see if Vassilir did indeed reprimand the other Rosian, Namacuix turned away from them. It was then that the vox unit behind them squealed into life. 

‘Commander do you read me?’ Called out the voice of Autemoc, his tone urgent.

‘I am here Autemoc, have the strike team engaged?’ he queried. 

‘Indeed they have my Lord, the insertion was completed moments ago, transferring now.’ 

The vox crackled before a sharp peel of noise rang out, closely followed by Bifrost’s voice, his clipped orders directing his team’s movements. Slight distortion caused him to sound tinny and distant. 

‘Bifrost?’ Namacuix spoke into the caster as the Rosian’s moved closer to the console, the Adjutant’s face still seething. 

Bifrost called out more orders before responding. ‘Namacuix? Your signal is weak.’
Namacuix nodded to the anaran and the techmarine moved forward to adjust several of the dials whilst administering incence to a grille as the side. 

‘Report.’ was all the Commander said, confident that the Anaran’s administrations would have strengthened the signal. 

‘We are inside, translation was clear.’ there was a burst of static before the voice responded once more, this time however it wasn’t addressing the Chapter Commander. 

‘Contact! to your left!’ Called Bifrost as the sound of bolter fire sang out, before the transmission cut out. 

The adjutant stormed forward gripping the caster. ‘My Lord? Respond!’ his grip tightened and he yelled. ‘Bifrost?’ 

He turned back to his fellow Rosians. ‘I’ve heard enough, our Lord needs our help!’ before he could move again Namacuix had drawn Shadowbane, the tip of the blade rose faster than the eye could follow to press against the skin between Acatlotzin’s eyes. 

‘Bifrost gained this honour, you will not tarnish his name.’ he stepped forward slightly, the blade tip pressing harder, drawing blood. ‘Do not get involved.’

The Rosian growled but could do nothing but back away as Namacuix showed no sign of relenting. To touch the holy blade of priism would be tantamount to sacrilege and it seemed the Azul had the better of him. 

‘My Lord,’ pleaded Xilonen. ‘This will only lead to ruin.’

Namacuix turned to rebuke him when the vox rang out with sounds of fighting before dying down once more. 

Namacuix dropped his weapon and turned once more to the vox console. ‘Bifrost?’

‘Aye Namacuix, I am here.’ the old warrior’s breathing haggard, ‘My squad is dead but I still live. Damn but these armour forms are tough bastards,’ there was a pause before he spoke once more, ’I am proceeding with the search for the inquisitor now.’

‘Continue to report Bifrost, I wish to know how you fare.’ 

For the next half an hour or so, Bifrost continued on without incident, his voice sounding laboured and pained, slipped in and out of focus the deeper he went into the Citadel. 

Finally he declared. ‘I’ve found the Inquisitor’s retinue or what’s left of it.’

A murmur spread round the room at that, though it was interrupted by the sound of clashing metal coming from the vox followed the heavy grunt of Bifrost.

‘Bifrost?’ only silence greeted Namacuix. 

A dark silence followed. It was Xilonen who broke it, ‘My Lord the assault has reached the Citadel’s breech. Shall they proceed into the Citadel proper?’

‘Tell them to hold until I give the word, order them to move only to protect themselves. Let’s give Bifrost some time yet.’

The vox sparked into life once more, almost in response to his words. ‘Pull the assault forces back!’ Called out Bifrost’s voice. 

‘You’ve found the Inquisitor?’ 

‘No, but I’ve found something worse, an access portal, there are thousands of the Armour forms ready to come through. They have to be stopped.’

Namacuix nodded, he knew that this could only mean that Bifrost intended to detonate his warhead. ‘Proceed.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bifrost pressed the initiation stud upon the warhead and set the timer for ten minutes, then placed it in a recess at the side of the large chamber.

Then rising to his feet he nodded to himself. ‘Father-Creator I come now to dine at your war table.’ He screamed before charging forward and throwing himself through the portal and into the enemy beyond.’


----------



## dark angel

Brilliant. I've finally caught up with this, and all I can say is that. Your writing has definately improved as of late, with the newer parts shaming the original ones. They are still excellent, of course, but I can certainly see that you have grown better! I'd love to see more on the Cleavers, as you know, but now that I have caught up, I'm sad to realise that this is coming to an end.

One thing that I picked out was; Then rising to his feet he nodded to himself. ‘Father-Creator I come now to dine at your war table.’ He screamed before charging forward and throwing himself through the portal and into the enemy beyond.’

The highlighted bit shouldn't be there  keep up the good work mate, rep if I can!


----------



## Thyr

Wow, I don't know what to say. Excellent story. You really bring the characters to life.


----------



## the_unchanged

*The beginning of the end*

The clean up after the destruction of the Citadel was a thankless task, small kill teams of Rainbow Warriors and the Emperor’s Cleavers scoured the land, hunting and killing any remnants of the Horde, while others still bulldozed huge numbers of the dead into make shift pits before turning them into pyres which burned long into the week. The noxious fumes carried away from the cities and their inhabitants by the strong wintertide winds.

Within hours of it being declared safe and with the announcement of the arrival of the Lord Inquisitor, the Lord Governor had declared several days of celebration in honour of their saviours. 

Namacuix felt relieved but strangely tense as though he was waiting for his new title to be taken from him and for the Chapter to tear itself apart from the inside, or worse for them to bond as they had and then the arrival of Lotan to herald their excommunication and decimation at the hands of the Inquisition. 

He had led his men in the rites of interment for their fallen brethren, they had all held their heads low as the Purans had led them through the halls of the dead to honour the dead. Powerful unguents and incense had allowed them to transfer from the mortal plain, into the realms where death held sway. It was a ancient ceremony which had began even before the creation of their Chapter, it was only right that they should see their brothers off.

The Rosians had declined to join them, they had taken themselves off to hold their own ceremony for their brothers and of course Bifrost. Namacuix had been loathe to let them go, he wished to keep the Chapter whole but in the end his hands had been tied, he would not risk a fight with the veterans, not at so early a stage in his Leadership. 

He had sensed the other Companies anger at the Rosian’s self imposed seclusion but none had voiced them for it would be disrespectful to the dead. As much as he tried to deny it, some of those within the other Companies had perhaps wished to honour their former Master and felt anger that they should be denied the chance to do so. 

Instead of worrying about something he had no control over, he had instead through himself into the planet wide celebrations, gathering his men and leading them to join the victory march. The Rainbow Warriors had turned out in force, Namacuix had laughed as he watched the citizens, gathered in their thousands and thronging the streets, had covered his brothers in garlands and wreathes, some even rushing forward to kiss parts of their armour, gratitude clear on their face. The air of jubilation brightened his spirits and even the dour Purans seemed to be getting into the spirit, most having removed their deathshead helms and smiling with the rest. 

Of their erstwhile allies the Cleavers, the Rainbow Warriors saw little, most of them were scattered around the outskirts of the city combing for survivors or where required despatching what was left of the Horde. Only Brothgaar, his stoic demeanour in stark contrast to Namacuix’, had decided to join them. Namacuix had grinned as the old man Sanetoch and his constant companion the boy had appeared, striving hard to keep up with the larger warriors. The boy glanced nervously at the Cleaver but Sanetoch quickly reassured him. 

‘Don’t worry lad, his barks worse than his bite.’ Namacuix had roared with laughter as to his credit, the Cleaver took the jest in good humour, merely harrumphing and upping his pace. 

Namacuix had lost track of them eventually as they slipped away to join the crowd, though he had seen many of the faces he recognised, acknowledging the Lord Commander and the newly promoted Pdf commander, he coldly disregarded the fat Bishop and his retinue at least he the High Judge to his credit had had the decency to give up his life in the defence of the city.

‘So many of them,’ Brothgaar commented absently, ‘I do not remember this many being part of the fighting.’

‘We cannot all be warriors Brothgaar, the Imperium would cease to function if we were,’ he answered back. 

‘The liberation of their world would have arrived sooner if they were.’ Brothgaar replied, his voice harsh but without malice.

‘Do not dishonour them, not when they offer only honour and gratitude to us.’ 

Brothgaar laughed, ‘They honour your men not mine.’ 

Namacuix sensed a break in the tension. ‘Ah but to honour yours they would all have to be warriors offering blood sacrifices!’ 

The two had laughed then and it felt good. 

As the march progressed further down towards the Space port, Namacuix glanced side long at the High Claw. ‘this Inquisitor Lotan what is he like?’ 

Brothgaar only nodded ahead, ‘Looks like you are about to find out for yourself.’ 

The procession was beginning to slow to a halt as it came towards a near by Landing Pad, the assembled marines and PDF troopers spreading into a semi circle around the eye shaped dock. Sat upon it, squat yet sleek, was the High Inquisitor’s shuttle. There was an escaping of air and the ramp pistons released, descending slow to create a wide boarding ramp. 

‘I will say one thing about him Rainbow Warrior, he is dangerous, be wary of him. He is a man of ambition and he will allow few to stand in his way.’

Namacuix shot the Cleaver a quizzical look but Brothgaar’s attention had already returned to the shuttle and the figures descending from it. 

Somewhat surprisingly, the first to exit were camo cloaked storm troopers, hidden behind shimmering holo fields they were all but invisible to civilian eyes, to an Astartes though, they were as clearly visible as the bulky craft that silhouetted them. 
They moved swiftly taking up defensive positions around the base of the ship, it was then that Namacuix realised they were not the only defensive presence, upon the roofs sat the immobile forms of snipers. 

It was not this forward guard that held his attention however, for descending down the ramp behind them strode a powerful female in sculpted power armour, in her hands was a weapon similar to an Astartes’ own. Namacuix hissed as he saw what hung from her neck, like some token of pride, the female carried the cup of priism. The small medal was given to all Rainbow Warrior neophytes on the day they ascended to full brotherhood. 

‘Who is that?’ he asked, nodding in the direction of the Battle Sister. 

Brothgaar’s expression was stoney, ‘Sister Selice,’ he replied finally, ‘Stay away from that one Rainbow Warrior, she has no love for you or your Chapter.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

Brothgaar shook his head, as though unsurprised by his confusion. ‘So you don’t know then?’

The look on Namacuix’s face said all he needed to know.

‘She encountered your Chapter at Daigeon, apparently there was a _misunderstanding_’ the last word was as loaded as a newly forged boltgun. 

Namacuix’ face creased with shock. 

‘Daigeon was a hellhole, little more than a planetwide battlefield, mistakes happen. It was her who brought your Chapter to Lotan’s attention.’

‘The Vermillion….’ Namacuix whispered. ‘So it’s true then?’

He dropped his head as though in shame. ‘We never thought, the tide. We lost touch with the Vermillion, our fourth, at Daigeon. We arrived too late to save them, to stop them.’

Brothgaar placed a hand upon the Rainbow Warrior’s shoulder. ‘Such is the way of we the Cursed.’

Namacuix heard the words but was to enrapt in his thoughts to acknowledge their import. 

‘What does the marking on her pauldron mean? You referred to her as Selice? Is her Sire name Sin?’ Namacuix asked distractedly. 

‘S.I.N. is not a designation well not a personal one, all soriatis under Lotan’s command wear that livery.’

Namacuix nodded, finally seeing the script below the letters. ‘Sevorum inquisitorial nomine, serving in the inquisition’s name.’

Before he could question more a lone figure came down the ramp followed by a strange looking mutant with an abnormally large head. The figure was wearing a surprisingly modest garb and Namacuix could sense by his air of command that he must be the Lord Inquisitor Lotan.

Finally a pair of red cloaked astartes strode down the ramp, their crusader pattern helm scanning the crowds for any sign of threat. The long cloaks covered their bodies entirely giving them the appearance of floating apparitions of red death. Namacuix felt a chill come across him as one of their gazes fell upon him before passing onwards. 

A Cleaver stepped forth from the crowd, the big fiend who had fought empty handed with consummate ease. It spoke volumes of the warrior’s stealth that neither Namacuix or Brothgaar had seen him in the crowd. 

The figure approached the Inquisitor. ‘One of your men?’ Namacuix queried. 

‘He is no brother of mine. Astoroth is one of Lotan’s hounds, you’ll learn of them soon enough. A land dragon in wulven’s clothing that one.’

Namacuix had never heard of these animals but the meaning was clear. 

They fell into an uneasy silence as Lotan, after acknowledging the warrior Astoroth, stepped forward to be greeted by the Lord Governor. Finally after the hand shakes and introductions were concluded, the Lord Inquisitor stepped forward to address the crowd. 

‘People of Soliban! My Brothers and Sisters of the Imperial creed, the Darkness of the xenos, mutant and witch, the horror of the traitor came for you this day. It seems that you rejected such Darkness in favour of our Lord’s light.’

The people of Soliban roared their approval, although it felt like the desperation of a people to show their faith. 

‘You called for succour, prayed to be saved and the Emperor answered you. He sent his men, He sent his angels, He sent his Light! You did not let them fight alone, no you fought for your world, you took it back from the darkness!. The crowds roared once more, ‘with a little help from the astartes of course.’ he said as an aside, laughter following his remark. This Lotan certainly knew how to hold a crowd. He followed on with more inspirational words before the Lord Governor finished the ceremony allowing the true festivities to begin. 

Brothgaar excused himself, taking the opportunity to approach the Inquisitor but made sure to remind Namacuix once more to be wary of his Lord.

Namacuix ordered his men to begin the re embarkment process before deciding to speak with this Inquisitor Lotan himself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He waited quietly in the small foyer of the Lord Commander’s offices, finally the large oak doors before him opened, the slight form of Orinir slipping out to move past the waiting Astartes. 

He watched the orator go turning only as he was asked to enter by the Inquisitor. 

‘Ah _Commander_, might I say congratualtions on you recent promotion.’ the inquisitor’s words were apparently without barb, as his faced remained open and sincere. 

‘I thank you my Lord.’ he wanted to say more but stopped himself. 

‘I take it you have come to discuss my plans to have the people of this planet re sited?’ 

‘I find this unacceptable.’ The Inquisitor nodded, ‘I expected better from you Commander.’ 

He sat down behind the desk and motioned to a crystal decanter upon it. ‘Ooska?’

Namacuix declined the offer. ‘I have a weak stomach.’ 

The Inquisitor smiled at his jest. ‘An astartes with a sense of humour? Truly I have underestimated you.’ he sipped from his glass. ‘Ah, wonderful.’ 

He held the glass up before him. ‘Only two ingredients, a type of malt grown on only a few worlds and water, and yet, such taste, truly exquisite. Three decades old, the perfect age.’

Namacuix clenched his fists, his patience running low. ‘These people have fougt for their world and now you seek to rob them of it?’ 

He had not come seeking argument with Lotan but the news he had received on his way here had chilled him to the bone. 

Lotan rose quietly to his feet. ‘Your involvement in this matter ended when the last bolt round was fired.’

Namacuix made to retort but Lotan didn’t give him the chance. ‘Perhaps though, sagacious as I am, I am mistaken? Perhaps you seek to emulate your cousins the White Consuls and rule worlds in His name? No?’

He moved round the desk to stand before the rainbow warrior, ‘Perhaps then, you seek conquest like your predecessor did on Rim’s Edge?’

Namacuix growled at that. How much did this Inquisitor know?

‘No? You offer no defense, no argument? Then perhaps you will leave the governing of this world to the rightful party.’ 

Namacuix nodded grimly, knowing that to say more would only incriminate himself further for he truly did not know how much Lotan knew. 

‘Oh and I also trust Rim’s Edge will be returned to the Imperial fold now that you are commander?’

‘It will be as you say Lord Inquisitor.’ Namacuix replied through pursed lips.

‘Then we are done?’ Namacuix saluted and turned away leaving the room, his anger barely held in check.


----------



## the_unchanged

Sorry about the delay had a tough week in RL.

My boss died in the pub so sorry if it's a little raw but ive been desperate to post this for a while.


----------



## dark angel

It’s over. Thank fuck for that. :grin:

Nah, in all honesty, I’m slightly disheartened that it is over. This was one of the more critically acclaimed stories on Heresy, to me. I thoroughly enjoyed everything which you had to offer, and the Rainbow Warriors grew from a mere jumble of names into a well-developed Chapter. I love how you have left it open for a number of possibilities, however, and the nod towards the old fluff with Sister Sin and Brother Vermillion is really cool!

I’m not sure if I would rather more on the Rainbow Warriors, or the Cleavers, though. Both are equally as interesting but the ferocity of the Cleavers probably boosts them higher in my book. Astoroth interests me. It seems to me like you are setting him up as the bad guy for another, and he does seem like that kind, despite there being very little on him. Was the introduction of so many characters, at the end, intentional?

Only bit of grammatical errors which I found was; 

_The procession was beginning to slow to a halt as it came towards a near by Landing Pad, the assembled marines and PDF troopers spreading into a semi circle around the eye shaped dock. Sat upon it, squat yet sleek, was the High Inquisitor’s shuttle. There was an escaping of air and the ramp pistons released, descending slow to create a wide boarding ramp. _

It should be slowly, not slow.

Oh, and sorry to hear about the death of the boss, mate. Keep your chin up now, and get writing.


----------



## the_unchanged

*EPILOGUE*


_ I have been amongst my brothers for nigh on four decades. The grief I felt at not being able to join them assuaged only by Tezuma’s offer. I was to join them onboard the skybridge, the pride I felt was eclipsed only by that I felt for my brother, my true brother namacuix upon his ascendancy to full brotherhood.

That was a long time ago now, though I still swell up with pride everytime I think of it. 

Being amongst these living heroes, to converse with them, to watch them as they practice, be it with war blade or sculptors blade, is to see as close to perfection as is humanly possible. To see a glimpse of the Emperor, to see his flesh made whole once more. 

Like everything in life though, I have to realise that nothing can be totally perfect not even these magnificent warriors. 

There is a darkness in them and it is insidious. Ask them and in their most frankest of moments they will tell you of the tide and they well speak of the reds, but this is only the visible face of the problem. 

There are other deeper problems that they do not see. 

I cannot discuss this with my brother for he will not understand. It takes a human mind to see such flaws, these astartes in all their superiority are incapable of it. 

This darkness consumes them and affects them each individually. My brother sees only the madness of Bifrost, yet I see the madness of them all. 

Autemoc with his insecurities, his inherent need for external support. Ocelotl with his paranoia or Tonuauc and his need for idols to worship. 

Even Namacuix is not exempt, for even he has his own madness, which is his crippling self doubt.

At first I assumed these were mere 'human' flaws but the actions they force in each astartes can be irrational to the extreme. 

I pray now to Emperor that this curse is controllable for if it is not then truly this chapter will continue its descent into oblivion. 

I know not who will read this or even why I right these words but it seems rhat if you are reading this then by now you know the truth. 

The 'Red Tide' which renders the strongest of brothers into animals is only the most extreme onset of the curse but the root of the problem runs deeper. 

I pray that our faith in the Emperor will protect us and that Bifrost does not lead us onto an inescapable path of bloodshed, as is his wont. 

Emperor have mercy on us, let us allow you to show you our true devotion and loyalty, do not let us fall. _



Namacuix crumpled the paper up in his hands, holding it to his forehead as though pressing the words to his head would bring his brother back. Finally after several minutes of deep silence he reached forward to touch the sleek capsule before him. 

'I would have understood Ictlan, you could have told me anything. It seems your fears about us were true all along, we are cursed. Rest now my brother, may Tlacelel accept your totem to his halls.' he whispered running his hand across the runes that Spelled out Ictlan's funeral pod. 

Silently and alone, the astartes Lord wept. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group had gathered once more in celebration, their cowls drawn tight around their masks but everywhere he looked, he saw smiles upon the bare jaws of those around him. 

'My brothers!' he called out finally drawing them closer to him. 

They moved into a semi circle around the speaker. 

'I have gained his trust and it will soon be time.' he smiled and they called out their approval. 

'The order of the fiery cross has fallen, now only our own sect remains. Heimdallr in his foolishness has been exposed as a traitor and is now the thrall of Namacuix.' 

He stepped into the light and dropped his hood before removing his mask. 

'The time for secrets are over, now we move as one. I ask that you purge our ranks of what remains of the Heimdallr’s order for they know too much.' 

They mumbled their assent. 

'We will move against the pretender soon and then we will be free to worship the Emperor in his dark guise.' 

They applauded at this, and he smiled for he could hear the revered whispering of the word _Malatl_. His Lord would be pleased to hear his name spoken so.

'First though we must swear in our newest members. He smiled as two figures stepped forward, one in the bulky suit of terminator armour and the other with a fleet captains medal upon his mark IV pauldron.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brothgaar kneeled before the Lord Inquisitor and presented his report, despite himself he found he was giving a favourable account of the Rainbow Warriors. Lotan simply stood and listened, the predatory sneer he always carried was never far from his sharp features. As usual he was sipping a glass of ooska, acting for all the world as though Brothgaar was an acadamicum chum regaling him with a long and ardous tale of banality instead of an Astartes reporting of matters of great import. How the High Claw hated the fool. 

It angered him greatly that someone as superior as himself would have to pander to such a pathetic creature.

When he had concluded his report, Lotan bid him to rise to his feet. 

'You have done well, _ ekriel _, the man made the honorific sound like an insult. 'Though your tale was embellished I concur with your findings, the Rainbow Warriors will make an excellent asset.' brothgaar merely nodded before saluting. 

'I am excused?' Lotan sat down beside his desk and swung his feet up to rest upon the various scattered reports. 'You are.' he replied finally. 

Brothgaar did not move however, for he knew the Inquisitor to well. 

'The lord governor has disappointed me. Punish him for me.'

Shock played across the High Claw’s face but he said nothing, he did not agree that the Governor had to die. 

'Orinir will be joining you, see that he suffers the same fate as our erstwhile governor.' 

Brothgaar smiled despite himself, it seemed he'd at least get some pleasure out of killing that one.

Lotan slid a dataslate across the desk towards him. 'details of my next crusade.' 

Brothgaar eyed them wearily wondering what hell he was going to throw them into next. 

'There's an added pict file for your eyes only. It shows what happened to your missing brethren. 'Brothgaar lifted it and raised an eyebrow in Lotan's direction. 

'I trust you will find it very enlighting. Now leave me, the stink of death from you offends my nose.' 

Brothgaar didn't look back.

_ one day it will be you I have to punish Lotan and I will enjoy that very much. [\I] 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Namacuix had watched all of his men leave for orbit, knowing he himself would be the last to leave. He looked up his sharp eyes picking out which of the bright stars in the night sky would be the skybridge, he found it easily and saluted towards his home and the smaller kin of the [puma's claw] beside it. Predators among a sea of fish, they waited for him, though soon they would depart. He had something to clear up first. 

He hefted the massive medicae pack onto his back and continued forward towards the remaining pre fab huts that were barracks to the cleavers. He did not have to travel far to find Brothgaar, the High Claw was in deep discussion with his Talon. Strangely namacuix could taste the coppery tang of blood in the air, he ignored it and continued on as the brooding leader bid him welcome, allowing the Talon to depart. 

'I understand my brother, that you have done unfinished business, some burden you must share with me?' 

Namacuix nodded sadly, he was not sure how what he had to say would be received. He placed the pack he carried upon the floor and undid the clasps. The lid sprung open to reveal the icey mist of cold storage cryogenic tubes.

‘A new Commander must always atone for the sins of his predecessor. I return your fallen brothers,' He offered the knife he carried pommel first to Brothgaar, the Cleaver gripped his arm stopping him, he pulled the other marine away to get a closer look at the contents of the case.

'So it is true?’ he turned back to Namacux, ‘I know what you did.' 

The look of fury upon The High Claw’s face caused Namacuix to try to back away, to gain space. Finally Brothgaar released his arm and turned away.

'we will not seek revenge for the things that have transpired for you are part of our punishment and that we cannot escape.' 

‘Punishment?’ Brothgaar ignored the question. 

‘I wish to offer you advice Rainbow Warrior.’ Without waiting to see if Namacuix was listening he continued, ‘The Astartes are becoming obsolete, the Inquisition are the Imperium’s tool of choice in these times. We are a hammer blow that will often kill the body as well as the disease whereas they are a scalpel who will only remove the infected organ. Soon we will be unable to function without the deepest scrutiny, we will be hunted like vermin.’

He closed the case and lifted it. 

‘Your Chapter has a flaw and what Lotan sees as a flaw, he also sees as a chance for exploitation. Let your only sin be thoughts of independence.’

‘Those thoughts were not mine, they were Bifrosts’

‘Nevertheless you must not compound them further by acting upon them. The Imperium may not think they need us but they do. We need them also for without duty we are nothing.’

Brothgaar turned back to him, ‘Follow Lotan but do not let him change you.’

Namacuix nodded, though he was unsure of what the High claw meant. 

‘It seems he already has a task for us.’ He threw the dataslate Lotan had given him to the Rainbow Warrior. ‘We are to join a crusade to purge the Ork from Feratis, we will journey there to join our brothers the Space Sharks, for they have peaked our Lord’s interest._


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## the_unchanged

This is the END!

Thank you to everyone who read this, especially-

Dark
Waltz
firemahlazer
Zodd
Templar
Emperor'shand
Boc
Thatotherguy
Thyr

Thank you guys.

Im off to lie down

any comments would be much appreciated!


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## Templar Marshal

I'm sad to see this excellent story finished but on the other hand I'm gald it is because your able to move on to your next endevour. Which I hope includes more of this...interesting Chapter :victory:


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