# The Voice of God - Chapter 1



## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

*The Voice of God*

Hello all. I'm new to the game and am writing up some fluff for a Chaos Marine Chapter (Silent Shadows). This is Chapter 1 (rough draft) of the story of their turn from SM to Chaos. 

::: Please Please Please ::: I would really like writing tips. Be harsh, you will not hurt my feelings. What can I do to improve it?

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Sergeant Detrus, hunched down near a broken window, was not having a good day. Oh, it had started out fine, a crisp clear dawn that promised a regular afternoon of half-duty, all spoiled by the arrival of that damn librarian. Looking moodily over at his unit’s new librarian crouched across from him glistening Terminator Armor, Detrus sighed again. Assigned to this boring Agi-planet, utterly devoid of anything of interest. Even the fights were pathetic; all the enemies were untrained farmers and mechanics who couldn’t hit a Land Raider if it ran over them. He had never been on such a miserable planet in his long life. Doing nothing was better then squashing the pathetic resistance offered by the so-called fighters of this dirtball of a planet. Then to top it off, the new librarian volunteered his unit to come out to this farm to destroy this blasted rebel militia that had appeared from nowhere and it had to be done without destroying the farming equipment that kept them all fed. Damn.

It had been a shock to him when the Capitan had walked up to him during PT with the unnaturally large librarian, so much of a shock that Detrus was grateful that he had learned to keep his feelings hidden early in his career. Brother Zubin hadn’t been dead more then a day, his brain dripping from his ears after a failed spell overturned the vehicle they had been riding in, and no one expected another librarian for at least a month. But there he was, all shiny, spit-polished in his blue and gold power armor, straight from the Librarium.

“Is something the matter Sergeant?” Alexander Zell, newest of the [Chapter]’s Lexicanium, interrupted Detrus’ brooding thoughts. 

“No sir.” The sergeant shifted uncomfortably under Zell’s piercing grey gaze. “Just think about how best to proceed sir.”

“Please enlighten us.”

“Well sir, crushing the enemy force would be as easy as killing babies, however, chances of the farm being damaged in the process are high and the Capitan comes down hard on that sort of thing considering they keep us fed. Besides sir, if we kill the farmers, who is going to grow our food?”

“Hmmm,” Alexander’s deep voice seemed to ring with an extra harmonic that pulled at Detrus’ mind, inviting it in. “Then it seems our best course would be to convince them to go back to work, would it not?”

The sergeant found himself nodding his agreement and before he could protest Zell stood, his head nearly brushing the roof of the room they had taken refuge in. Stepping to the window Zell’s voice boomed out across the road separating the marines from the rebels, “Hold fire, I wish to parley.”

The sudden silence as both sides immediately stopped shooting was nearly deafening. Grasping the sill with a gloved fist, Zell vaulted lightly out the window and started moving across the road, turning only to command the two marines who had started to follow him to stay inside. Staring in amazement at the huge figure weaving his way through the mines that littered the road to meet the three rebels that had appeared cautiously, Detrus could only wonder at the battle’s sudden interruption. Blatant disbelief was written clearly upon his face as he watched more and more of the rebels appearing until around a hundred stood in a large semi-circle facing the speaking giant who seemed to glow with a heavenly light as the sun’s rays glinted off of his gold edged armor. 

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the hostile workers seemed to lose their angry edge. Guns that had been held at the ready were lowered; angry faces softened and defiant gazes were suddenly guilty. A confused marine standing at the window next to the sergeant swore softly under his breath as the farmers below, almost as one man, placed their weapons on the ground, turned took two steps and knelt in surrender. 

“Sergeant,” Zell’s voice boomed once again over the battlefield, “bring your men down please.”

Moving swiftly down the hill, their weapons held at the ready in case any of the farmers moved back toward their guns, the marines reached Zell and immediately moved into action, Gathering all the weapons, and commanding the farmers to lie face down, hands behind their head. One farmer, slow to comply was knocked sprawling by the butt of a Space Marine Bolt Rifle. As the marine raised his gun to strike again Zell’s voice cut sharply across the road, again freezing everyone where they were. “Enough. Do not harm them in any way.”

“Sir, meaning no disrespect of course, it is standard procedure that anyone who holds a gun against the Imperium is subject to summery execution.” Detrus looked at the librarian with a wary expression, as if unsure what would happen next.

“Ah, but as you said yourself sergeant, if we kill them, who will grow our food” Laughing at the bemused expression on Detrus’ face Zell strode to the front of the group of face down farmers. Still smiling he addressed them. “As you all know, the law of the Emperor cannot be denied, someone must pay for your crime of defiance. Who instigated this rebellion?” The assembled farmers stirred uneasily, and the watching marines couldn’t blame them, knowing full well the punishment for this crime was death. Again Zell spoke, “Who caused this?”

His words grew, filling the minds of all present, gently pushing them to confess what their involvement in this scenario had been. The silence that followed created the odd impression of a vacuum, seeming to pull the confession from the confused farmer who found himself suddenly on his feet, the words, “I am the one” escaping unbidden from between his lips. Shocked at his minds betrayal, the burly farmer stumbled forward, dwarfed by the smiling giant with the magical voice. 

“You understand why you are being executed?”

A mute nod.

“You understand how you will be executed?”

Another mute nod. The farmer stood, shaking, staring blankly at the ground. With a movement almost too swift to follow the librarian lifted the farmer by his neck, and drawing his sword he drove it in through the farmer’s stomach, driving it up until its point broke the skin of the farmer’s neck, withdrawing it just as swiftly. Dropping the gutted, screaming farmer on the ground, Zell stepped over his writhing body to address the terrified former rebels. 

“As per the law of the Imperium, any man who attempts to help the condemned will suffer the same fate. Let this be a lesson to you all,” his voice was low and dangerous, at odd contrast with the smile on his lips. “Glory to the Emperor.”A hundred voices echoed his, reinforced by the ragged screams from the farmer at Zell’s feet. 

“There is still light, you will all report back to work.” The librarian motioned to his sergeant, “its time we got back to camp.” Pushing through the farmers hurrying toward their machines, Sergeant Detrus gathered his men around him and followed Alexander through the sea of bodies toward the Rhino parked beside the building they had been hiding in, shaking his head in stunned disbelief at what he had just witnessed. 

Hours later, alone with the Capitan he made his report. No casualties, one executed. No damage to any machines or buildings. Incredulous the Captain made him repeat his story, unable to believe that at the word of one man, the enemy has simply surendured.

“What did he tell them?”

“I asked him sir, on the way back. He said that all he did was remind them of how important it was for them to continue doing their jobs for the glory of the Emperor.”

“And they just dropped their weapons, volunteered the instigator and got right back to work?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Unbelievable.” The Capitan said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Simply unbelievable. Who is going to believe a report like that?”

“Yes sir.” Detrus maintained his blank face, focusing on a point behind the Capitan’s head.

“Very well, sergeant. Well done. You may go.” Shaking his head, the Capitan waved a hand to dismiss Detrus. Just as he reached the door the Capitan called out, “Sergeant, I think this one bares watching. Please keep me informed of any new developments.”

“Yes sir, will do sir.” Detrus shut the door carefully behind him, whistling as he walked down the hall. It seemed that his life had just gotten a lot more interesting.


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

First... Divide you work into paragraphs... 

Second... When writing sentences such as this: "Sergeant Detrus, hunched down near a broken window while shots spatted around him, was not having a good day."... 

Make sure you arranged the elements properly like this: "Sergeant Detrus, hunched down near a broken window, was not having a good day especially when bullets rained all around him."... The word "spat" doesn't really belong in a sentence that describes a battlefield... It's too soft... 

Third... Choose words that best suit the Warhammer 40,000 universe...

Like what I mentioned in the second advice... Words that are just too soft don't belong here... Unless your making a comedy:laugh:... But if your planning one... Feel free to do so:victory:... 

Fourth... There are also some sentences that were just too long and had overused punctuation marks and also needed some revisions: 
“Rightly speaking, it would be no problem for us to crush the enemy force out there, really just a bunch of farmers who got their hands on some guns, however, in the process we would likely destroy most of the equipment and some of the buildings which would cripple the farm.” 

EDITED: "Rightly speaking sir, destroying the enemy is not the problem here. The process of "how to destroy them" is the actual dilemma because they are using buildings and equipments that are essential to the farm, as cover from our line of fire."

Fifth... Redundancy... "Then to top it off, the new librarian volunteered his unit to come out to this *blasted* farm to destroy this *blasted* rebel militia that had appeared from nowhere; without destroying the *blasted* farming equipment that kept them all fed. Damn."... Avoid it pls... Use other words like: pathetic, insignificant, despicable, frak, gaking...

Sixth... History and info... go to wh40.lexicanum.com... It possesses most of the Warhammer 40k need-to-know-things... Imperial Guardsmen are no match for Space Marines... How much more a militia of farmers who wouldn't even know how to use or aim a lasgun properly?...

Hope this will really help you a lot... And I hope I'll be seeing some of your works in the near future...


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## Disciple of Chaos Undivided (Jun 3, 2009)

Listen to waltzmelancholy_07 he gives good advice. The size of the 40k universe can boggle the mind sometimes so go to lexicanum.com and just hit the random page link and start reading. Also dont be afraid to post a question here at Heresy theres alot of people who know a whole lot about warhammer. You've got a really good idea so study up and I'm looking forward to your future stories. Dont forget to check out the Writers Circle thread by Commissar Ploss. Theres alot of information there too, hope you like to read.

P.S. +rep for the very cool idea


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

Thank you both for your comments, I'll check out the information you recommend.

@waltzmelancholy_07: Is there a way to tab to show proper paragraph division? Or am I going to have to hit enter? 

@Truckdriving: Thanks for the rep.

Is there a specific place for me to post revisions? Should it be a new post or do I edit this one?


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

Hit enter... Then maybe press indent and align left... And before posting a fluff... Preview it first and then submit it... Just revise your work on this current thread and then leave a message that says you revised it...


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

This is a short bit I wrote but put in the HB Fluff section (see link in OP). Moving it here to consolidate.
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*Death in the Mists:*

He staggered into camp, barely fit to walk, collapsing before the surprised guards could get to him. As one guard ran for a medic the other rolled him over, recognizing the tattered uniform of B company, absent from camp for the last three days, assumed missing in action. They moved him as quickly as possible to the camp hospital and informed the Capitan who strode down to see him. A brisk, abrupt man, the Capitan was cursing the day he had been sent to this infernal planet. Covered in ruined cities it was his job to locate and destroy weapon caches a rogue force had been using to fight in the system. What should have be standard procedure search and destroy missions were becoming increasingly difficult and then B company just dropped off the face of this blasted world. Meeting the doctor at the door, the Capitan asked about the patient. 

“His name is Simon Barren. Seems he is a medic assigned to B Company, he has seen better days, that’s for sure.” The Doctor responded, “However, he doesn’t appear to have sustained any injuries, just food and water deprivation and exhaustion.”

“Hmph, well have him up and about as soon as you can. We need to know what happened to the rest of B Company. Send him to my office when he is able.”

“Yes sir.”

The Capitan was moodily staring at a map on his wall when one of his lieutenants coughed quietly to get his attention. Turing he saw the medic standing in the middle of the room dressed in a new standard issue uniform, flanked by the Lieutenants of A, C, D and E Companies. The Lieutenant who had coughed moved toward him holding out a data pad, which took mechanically, still staring at the medic. “Make your report, soldier.”

“Yes sir,” the medic cleared his throat and shook his head slightly as if to clear fog from it. 

Well sir, we were assigned to find and destroy a stockpile of munitions our scouts reported finding in the ruins of Verrrol, the ruined city sic clicks to the southeast. We arrived without incident at the city and were just entering the outskirts of the city when everything went to hell.

“The first thing I noticed was a mist that rose from the ground to envelope us until I could barely see the man in front of me. It was tinged with an unnatural darkness and writhed as if it was being twisted tightly around our unit. Seems I wasn’t far off. We’re trained to operate in all conditions, so we switched on our lights and carried on marching to our doom, the thick fog swirling around us, little knowing our forces would be decimated within a the minute. 

“Honestly sir, I don’t know why I’m alive. One moment I was marching along, ready to secure the munitions cache our scouts had located and the next I was flat on my back, smashed to the ground by the backhanded blow from an enemy who appeared out of thin air. I could only gasp for air as his power sword cut through the neck of the man who had been next to me and, with an expert flick of his blade to get rid of the excess blood, he vanished into the mist again moving faster then humanly possible.

“The air was rent with a scream that gargled into silence quickly followed by confused shouts and scattered laser fire that brought more screams and the smell of charred flesh. Struggling to rise I saw a armored figure blur past, slicing a gun arm off a soldier as he went, swallowed by the mist almost as soon as he appeared. Diving to the ground as laser fire gouged the ground around me in the phantom warrior’s wake I heard the impact bodies falling around me, coupled with the oaths of those wounded and the hammer of guns as they returned fire.”


Outside, along the wall a guardsman stood, keeping a vigilant eye on the surrounding countryside. 

“Dolan.” 

The Guardsman turned his head slightly, picking out his approaching relief in the gathering gloom. “Ho, Marcus. About time you came to relieve me. Though I have no idea how you are going to keep a watch with this cursed fog.” Getting no answer he turned more fully, peering into the thickening fog. “Marcus?”
…

Inside the gathered officers listened, spellbound to the horror story being laid out for them.

“On it went, shadowy shapes appearing as if by magic only to melt into the dark mist again, scattered laser fire, growing increasingly more sporadic until the unnatural silence was punctuated only by the moans and cries of the wounded. Working feverishly on a man who had fallen near me I didn’t realize that even the wounded had fallen silent until a shrouded figure stood over me, power blade dripping blood, staining the ground red where he stood.

“As suddenly as it had come the mist drained away revealing the carnage of my entire unit, their slashed and charred bodies littering the road. As I watched, horrified, I saw the last of the wounded being killed by our enemies, a group of six robed Space Marines.”

The Capitan goggled at him, “Six? There weren’t others hidden nearby?”

“No sir, there were only six. As I was saying sir, their leader, having come up to stand beside me pulled out his Bolt Pistol and shot the man I had been working on in the head. All their weapons had strange devices on the ends of the barrel that silenced their guns, which explains why all that we heard during the fight were our own weapons. Turning to me the leader tossed me this data pad and without any sort of signal all his men activated some sort of jump pack and were gone before I could move.”

Unnerved, the Capitan rubbed his thick neck. A whole company slaughtered like sheep by six men? What kind of monsters where they facing? Looking down at the data pad he had been given with a shake of his head he activated it, reading the words that suddenly glowed up at him.

“By the time you have read this all your guards will be dead and your communications cut. If you wish to live lay down your weapons and form up in the courtyard.”

With an oath the Capitan spun to face the wounded medic, stopping in shock at the sight that met his eyes. A large figure in battle armor stood behind the medic, three dead officers at his feet and another struggling against the hand that choked him. Unable to speak, he could only look at the medic who smiled understandingly, saying with a gesture, “Capitan, meet my new Lord, Alexander Zell.”


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

Moving backward, I think I want to set up more back-story. Let me know what you think. Advice is ALWAYS welcome.

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If it had been anyone else Inquisitor Geravis would have had their skin removed and their tendons cut before having them crucified. As it was, he just sighed and shook his head at the young boy kneeling on the stone floor of his sparsely furnished office. The bowed head before him hid strong features dominated by strangely piercing grey eyes, eyes that had originally brought the boy to the Inquisition’s notice. Making a mental note to find out more about what was going on Geravis shot a glance at the robed figure who stood in the corner by the door and commanded the boy to stand up. 

Rising from his kneeling position, Alexander Zell moved with a grace that belied his long gangly form. Thin to the point that he looked half starved, Zell’s body defied every effort by the nutritionist assigned to the novices to fill him out. Regardless of what kind of food, or how much, they tried to shove down his throat he retained his spindly form. Raising a hand in a quick focused motion, Alexander flicked his golden hair away from his eyes with long thin fingers revealing a dark black and blue mark above his right eye. Not bothering to look around at the familiar walls of the stone room he instead observed the room’s third occupant from the corner of his eyes, pretending to study the wide figure seated at the metal desk in front of him. The wide shoulders of the Inquisitor were made even wider by the power armor that, if you listened to rumor, Geravis was never without and the nicks and gouges that covered it gave silent testament to the reasons why. In contrast, the figure in the shadows to his left seemed more like a blade with an athletic frame without an inch of extra weight covered by a dark grey robe whose hood concealed any discernable features. 

Geravis, known as a hard humorless man, even among the Inquisition, had a soft spot for the gangly young psyker before him who was so full of righteous zeal. It was well known, though never spoken of, that Alexander enjoyed the favor of the Inquisitor and because Geravis controlled the Schola Progenium in this sector few teachers felt comfortable punishing Zell, often sending him to Inquisitor Geravis to be dealt with. 

“What am I going to do with you Alexander?” Geravis sighed again, looking at the report that had caused him to summon Zell. “According to this, you interfered when some of the other boys were going to punish Terinus for the heresy he had been uttering.”

“They were going to kill him sir.”

“Is death not the appropriate punishment for heresy?” 

“It is sir.”

“Then why did you stop them?” Annoyed at this lack of logic, the Inquisitor threw the paper down on his polished desk and glared at the unsmiling boy.

“Terinus did not know he was committing heresy sir. He has a valuable mind that could be used for the Emperor’s glory, it would be a waste to throw it away because he did not think before he spoke.” 

“Hmph.” Secretly pleased at the response, Geravis was careful to keep a scowl on his face. “Am I to assume that you want to tutor this boy in correct doctrine, as you are doing with the others?”

“Yes sir.” A small smile slipped onto Alexander’s face, “If it pleases you sir.”

“We will see. Now,” here Geravis paused and picked up the report again, “there seems to be some confusion as to how you stopped your over zealous brethren. According to the witnesses, you talked to them?”

“Yes sir. I just explained the situation sir.”

“That doesn’t explain the welt you have.”

“No sir.” The smile disappeared again, leaving Zell’s face impassive.

“Well, what happened?” growled the Inquisitor, quickly beginning to lose what little restraint he had.

“As you said sir, some of my brothers were a little over zealous. One of them attempted to strike Terinus not realizing I was in the way.”

“I see.” Dropping the report again Geravis waved his hand in dismissal, raising his brows when Alexander hesitated. “Is there something further?”

“Yes sir, I was wondering sir, why there is another psyker in the room with us.”

Geravis’ eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze to the figure in the corner. “That is a very good question, maybe he can answer it for us.”

With the grace of one accustomed to moving under great weight the robed figure stepped out into the room, throwing back it’s hood to reveal a bald young man, his face horribly marred by a scar that ran across his scalp down to his empty left eye socket. His remaining eye was abnormally large, dominated by an icy blue iris with a tiny pupil. As he stepped into the light he fixed his single eye on Alexander who returned his stare with one of equal intensity. For a full minute they stood, Inquisitor Geravis forgotten, staring as if they could read the other’s mind. 

“My name, young one, is Epistolary Jaratu. I have come here to ask advice of our esteemed Inquisitor and to observe his excellent methods.” The librarian bowed his head slightly toward Alexander, whose brow had furrowed. “You look as if something is the matter, young one.”

Bending his knee, Alexander knelt before Jaratu, showing the proper respect for the high-ranking librarian. Raising his head, Alexander’s unflinching eyes met Jaratu’s gaze. “Lies do not honor the Emperor.” 

Taken aback by the bluntness of the statement, Jaratu looked at Inquisitor Geravis who nodded as if to say, “Yes, he really believes that.” Without warning the robed figure waved a hand, unleashing a mental blow toward Alexander, the force of smashing him off of his feet, he hit the wall with a sickening crunch. Geravis, no mean psyker himself could feel the backlash and was devoutly thankful the blow had not been aimed at him.

Alexander, crumpled against the base of the wall, raised his head slowly, ears ringing from the impact and struggled to get to his feet. His body screaming with pain, he could only assume that he was suffering from multiple broken bones, maybe even a crushed spine. Fury blossomed in Alexander’s chest, pushing the pain to the back of his mind, and despite the intense protest by his body he lifted his burning eyes to the smirking librarian who suddenly felt irrational fear coursing through his being. Recognizing the broken young psyker as the source of this mental assault Jaratu forced himself forward, the feeling of terror growing as he stepped closer to Alexander, until he was close enough to knock out Zell with a quick blow to the head. 

Inquisitor Geravis uncurled himself from the fetal position that he, unexplainably, had assumed as far from the broken body of his favorite student as one could get in the small room. Confused he tried to recall what had happened but could only remember a vague feeling of absolute terror.

Epistolary Jaratu, looking quite pleased with himself, sent a message to the crew of his waiting ship. 

“Confirmed reports of potential Alpha level psyker. Needs medical attention. Ready the ship for our immediate departure and alert command of our success.”


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

No thoughts? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

Ei... Seems you're improving:victory:... Nice touch on the psyker... It really made me wonder why would the Inquisitor cower in fear until Jaratu mentioned his psychic level... Another advice though... You should have told the story of Alexander Zell first before the slaughter of B company... Cause if you did that... It kinda has this drama like... "Here is a promising psyker, recruited for his abilities... then 20 or so years later... He slaughters a camp full of IGs..." It makes the reader think and curious as to what happened during those years between the stories?... Did he turn? or Was it a covert mission?... Anyway, expecting more:biggrin:...


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

This is the next in a series of Shorts about Alexander Zell. Its long so I'll be doing it in two parts (this being part 1)


Pain? What is pain? The protest of a weak body, a minor distraction to be put aside in the pursuit of the goal. Pain is momentary, a brief, fleeting state; damnation is eternal. -Alexander Zell

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Epistolary Jaratu was not happy, and when Jaratu was not happy, no one was happy. Standing slightly behind the seated Librarian, Alexander Zell smiled inwardly at the nearly visible anger rolling off of Jaratu. The opulent antechamber they had been led to was without a doubt the most impressive room Zell had ever been in. From the polished marble floor to the mother of pearl columns that supported an oppressive detailed fresco ceiling the room reeked of the gluttonous abuse of wealth that the Epistolary reviled. Each wall, covered with elaborately painted scenes, depicting the Planetary Governor engaged in various benevolent actions from feeding the poor to fighting off the forces of Chaos. Nauseating. Turning his attention toward the large gilt door that Jaratu was glaring at, it was all Alexander could do to suppress a chuckle. In front of the lavishly carved double doors were two guards, Lasguns held at attention. The two Guardsmen stood as still as possible, straining every muscle to appear nonchalant, as if to say, "What us? We're just standing here." 

The minutes ticked by, chasing each other into oblivion. Bored, Alexander focused his mind inward, finding the balance that had once been so hard to maintain. Now effortless, his strange connection to the warp laid the world out before him as it truly was. Unable to directly adjust the flows and eddies of the ever moving warp, Alexander had no trouble picking out the dense contorted areas that showed the flow of energy through a mind. The balance established, Alexander let his thoughts range outward, carried by the streams of the warp, flitting from mind to mind within the palace. There was Jaratu, outwardly furious but cold as ice inside, the guards, desperately afraid that the angry Epistolary would choose to vent his anger on them for being in his way. There were the countless servants, each absorbed with their own thoughts moving through the place like bees in a hive. Zell jumped to the minds of the hidden guards, carefully observing the two visitors, never suspecting that they had been discovered. Dismissing all these as harmless, Alexander sent his inward eye through the golden double doors at the end of the room, flicking quickly over a servant and coming to rest on Planetary Governor Bandis. 

Jaratu recalled Alexander to the present, his carefully controlled voice an odd contrast with his obvious fury, asked Alexander what time it was.

"24:35 local time, two hours into the second half of the day. 17:98 on Holy Terra." 

Jaratu turned to look at his subordinate who hadn't bothered to consult a time piece and seemed to be absorbed observing his surroundings. "Are you sure about that?" 

At the question Alexander turned his head quickly to face the scarred Librarian. "Of course I am sir. We arrived seven hours, twelve minutes and 4 seconds ago. We have been waiting for thirty two minutes and twenty six seconds in this chamber after spending exactly nineteen minutes walking through the halls from the door and forty five seconds with the receptionist."

"How do you do that?" 

"I count sir. We were all taught to judge time in the Librarium sir."

"Ha. You really are quite extraordinary Zell. Remind me to test the extent of your abilities after we are finished here.

"Yes sir"

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"Quite extraordinary, Jaratu. You say that he reads minds?"

"Yes sir."

"How extensive is this power?"

"We are not completely sure. When asked he says that most people are an open book. I am able to keep my thoughts from him, however I don't know that he has ever actually tried to get past my mental shields. In addition, his mind is a closed door to everyone else."

"Even you?"

"Yes sir. It doesn't seem to be a conscious effort on his part to keep other people out, it is simply that his mind is so tightly...wound, that it is impossible to unravel the strands."

"I see. Has he displayed any other powers?"

"Sort of. Again, we are not sure of the extent of this power, but he seems to be able to implant suggestion into the minds of those around him. This power was first displayed when I met him for the first time. After suffering sever shock he produced a strong field that caused anyone near him to suffer extreme terror. 

"Unusual. This one bears watching. You will take him under your wing and train him in our way, but monitor him closely. I do not need to remind you that his failure will be counted as yours."

"As you say my Lord."

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As Jaratu faced the doors again they opened enough to allow a slight figure dressed in the Livery of Planetary Governor Bandis' personal servants to slip out. Padding forward quietly he bowed before Jaratu and gestured with a gloved hand. "If you would follow me honored Lords, my master will see you now." Standing Jaratu inclined his head and told his large assistant to follow closely. Flicking his mind outward again, a habit developed from years of walking into dangerous situations with Epistolary Jaratu, Alexander was surprised to see a mind in the room ahead that had not been there moments ago. Where there had been two, now there were three. Jumping back to Jaratu's mind, Zell sent him a thought, informing him of the change and then moved back again to the new mind. Female, young, pretty-this was picked up from Bandis-and a psyker. 

Pushing the servant aside, Jaratu stalked into Bandis' room, taking in the bright trappings that adorned the room, in striking contrast to the dirty, refuse filled city that lay outside the rooms large bay windows. Facing him across a wide wooden desk was a man in a stained uniform, his wide stomach straining against the buttons. 

"Ahh, Epistolary Jaratu I believe? Welcome," Brandis stopped speaking as Jaratu made an abrupt gesture.

"You know who I am, and I know who you are. Lets get down to business. You have reported a cult operating from within your city. What do you know about it?"

"Ever eager to start, a worthy trait my Lord." A wheezy chuckle slipped from the governor's lips as he continued with a malicious smile. "Let me introduce Talia Esteavin my...assistant. She is the Primaris who has been assigned to the case due to her familiarity with the cult's...activities." Looking at the petite young lady standing, head down, quietly next to the desk, Alexander felt a stirring pity with his chest. It didn't take a psyker to realize that she abhorred her position, or why. Brandis pulled himself up in his chair, leaning over to stroke Talia's arm, seeming to take great delight in her flinch. "Believe me when I say that she is quite...useful. Please, make use of her. I have no doubt she will be able to fulfill any of your needs." Chuckling again, he motioned for Talia to step forward, craning his fat neck around to watch her do so.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness Brandis." Jaratu's narrowed eyes took in the governors form, his words thick with contempt. Turning away Jaratu walked to the door, barely waiting for it to be opened before pushing past Brandis' servant, the door banging one of the guards on the elbow. Looking after him in some confusion, Talia looked around for help, her eye meeting the smiling eyes of the Librarian's assistant. Looking kindly down at her, the giant asked her to please follow, confiding as they walked out after the furious Epistolary that Jaratu really was quite nice under his rough exterior.


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## Inquisitor Varrius (Jul 3, 2008)

IntereoVivo said:


> The opulent *antechamber*...
> 
> Now effortless, his strange connection to the warp laid the world out before him as it *truly* was.
> 
> ...


Just some spelling and grammar; glad to see more of Zell!


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

Inquisitor Varrius said:


> Just some spelling and grammar; glad to see more of Zell!


Fixed. Thank you, I have a hard time spotting errors in stuff I've written because my mind just puts in what should be there


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

This was posted in Home Brew Fluff but it bothered me that all of the AZ stuff wasn't together. So I've moved it.

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On Faith: An Essay on Effective Leadership by Alexander Zell

For untold millennia we have lived with the darkness of war. Pain has become our constant companion and death has become our bedfellow. There is no corner of our galaxy that has not been touched by the blighting hand of suffering and there is no life that has not been shaken by the tremors of destruction. Against the encroaching darkness that threatens to overwhelm us there is but one defense, one hope, our bulwark and shield. The light of the Emperor keeps the darkness at bay, making our hearts pure, so we may continue our eternal struggle against the forces that would dare drag us into wanton destruction and despair. 

The brunt of this monumental task has been entrusted to us, the Adeptus Astartes, and the privilege of leading the effort to crush the bodies and souls of the eternally damned has rightfully been granted to those who have proven themselves the most capable. There is, however, another fight. A subtle war comprised of countless skirmishes fought within the hearts of every man and woman in the Imperium.

Without question, humanity would long have been wiped from the face of this universe were it not for the sacrifices of the Imperium, made on our behalf. I do not speak of the the external threats brought about by the forces of Chaos and the Xenos but of the corruption that lies in the hearts of man. Without the daily sacrifice of self that is the greatest strength of the Imperium, we would have long been divided and crushed. 

I speak of the sacrifices practiced each moment by mothers for their children, by Battle brothers for those who stand strong beside them. I speak of the sweat, blood and pain endured on our behalf by those who protect us. It is this spirit of self sacrifice that truly holds Chaos at bay, and this spirit is what Chaos seeks to corrupt in each of us.

It has been said by many that it is only by the strength of our armor, by the force of our weapons, by the ferocity of our battle lust that we are saved. This is Heresy. Do you think it is confidence in his tools that causes the loyal Guardsmen to stand in the face of the on-rushing horde? Or the lust for battle that makes the Astartes fight all the harder when his brothers have fallen? A thousand times no, for these thoughts are the mark of a soul fallen. True strength is not that of ceramite or Power Fists but of the indomitable spirit, the fierce dedication to purity and selflessness, the courage to stand in our place without fear or trembling, the fearlessness and self sacrifice that mark our true Lord.

For those of us who have been given the grave responsibility of leading our brothers and sisters it is vital that we understand the importance of pursuing the selfless path. It is only when we practice this in our own lives that we can expect it of those who trust us to lead them. It is likely that you were told that the end justifies the means. Again, this is Heresy! To act selfishly, to demand a sacrifice that we are not willing to make ourselves, to condemn another for failing as we have failed, these are the marks of a soul tainted by the foul claws of chaos, doomed for eternity. 

In this fight with the Chaos that plagues us from within and without we shall emerge victorious, of that there is no doubt. Until that day, when the Emperor stands again at the head of his armies and the universe is under his heel, we must make use of gifts we have been given. Separating ourselves from the scum who have fallen beyond hope of redemption, we must use our friendship, our love, our faith. Above all we must be ready, at a moments notice, to lay down our lives, our pride and even our strength for our Lord and our brothers.

For the Glory of the Emperor.


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

*Part 2*

Sorry this took so long. It's part 2 of the story I started earlier.

PLEASE don't be shy about giving me writing tips and mentioning things I could improve. Even if you just don't like part of it (or all of it)! I want to get better but can't if I get no feedback.
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Nearly running to keep up with the long strides of the Astartes beside of her, Talia was finding it difficult to dodge the piles of garbage that littered the city street. Once beautiful Hearoon, called the Jewel of Zorma by many, had deteriorated to the point where it rivaled most other hive-world cities for the title of ugliest city in the galaxy. Covered in filth, from the top of it's once glistening spires to the grimy avenues that once boasted some of the best markets in the system, Hearoon had spiraled into decay during Planetary Governor Bandis' harsh rule. 

Looking around as they hurried along, Talia wished bitterly that her city might one day be restored to what it was. With a shake of her head she turned back to the matter at hand, glancing over at the younger librarian who caught her look and threw her a roguish wink. Blushing furiously Talia looked away and focused on keeping up with the fast moving party.

"Hold." The party stopped at Jaratu's word, the Ultramarines fanning out quickly to cover all approaches to their position in the street. "Before we continue, let's find out what we're dealing with." Jaratu smiled at the suddenly stoic Talia. "Well Primaris Esteavin? We were told you were familiar with this 'cult' and could brief us on what we need to know."

"Yes sir." Talia's face remained carefully blank as she recited mechanically, "The cult is comprised of high ranking members of what was recently a sociopolitical group called the Emperor's Hand that used private and commercial funds to try and provide the poor of this city with a higher standard of life. When it became known that the group's leaders were involved in illegal activities they were forcibly disbanded. It has recently come to our attention that the former leaders of the Emperor's Hand are meeting in private in direct contradiction to Planetary mandate and have been observed preforming heretical rituals."

"I see." Jaratu observed Talia's stiff posture and stony face quizzically.

[She isn't telling the whole story, sir] Alexander's voice said softly. It had taken Jaratu days to realize that Zell was planting the words in his head directly. Once he had gotten used to Alexander's strange way of speaking it had become their natural method of communication. 

{Is that so?} Jaratu thought back. {Can you see what she is hiding?}

[Yes sir. Ask her about her brother and his role in the Emperor's Hand]

"Tell me Primaris Esteavin," Jaratu said as he locked gazes with the small Guardsmen, "did you know anyone involved in the Emperor's Hand?"

"Yes sir." Talia's already stony face hardened slightly. "My brother founded the orginazation."

"Really? Was he doing something illegal?" There was a slight pause before Talia responded, when she did all trace of emotion was gone from her voice.

"Yes. He was smuggling food and medical equiptment on to the planet to avoid paying the 67% tax that His Excellency Brandis established last year."

[She is telling the truth sir] Alexander's voice responded to Jaratu's unspoken question.

"Interesting Primaris. Do you know if the accusations of Heresy are true?" 

Here Talia's composure faltered. "I'm not...I mean...They have not been confirmed yet sir."

"Thank you. You may lead us to their headquarters." Waving her ahead Jaratu raised an eyebrow at Alexander in question.

[According to what I can gather she was the one who put in the call reporting rebel activity, not Brandis]

{No wonder he was so surprised to see us} thought Jaratu. 

[Indeed. She did not report heresy because she was afraid the Inquisition would come and kill everyone involved without finding out what was actually happening]

{Hmmm, a valid fear. Why did she call us at all?}

[Because her brother made a comment about soon having enough power to destroy Brandis and take control of the planet. She had heard rumors about a large number of people being found heavily maimed, in seemingly ritualistic patterns. Putting two and two together she was afraid her brother was getting involved with Chaos]

{I see, smart girl. Keep your senses up; if something like that is going on here we are going to want the warning}

[Yes sir]

Talia wound her way through the city, often leading the Astartes blocks out of their way to circumnavigate the huge mounds of trash blocking off entire streets. After more then an hour of walking she stopped and gestured down the street at a large stone building that had once been a bank. 

"That is where the cult was last seen hiding. Our scouts have not reported any further movement so we assume they are still there. There are no underground entrances or exits and as you can see it stands alone from other buildings. The top two floors are burned out, leaving the ground floor and the basement where the vault is located. Our reports suggest that this is where the majority of the cult is hiding."

[She has been inside the building herself] Alexander's voice was followed almost immediately by images of the insides of the former bank, grim men in dark clothing hurrying around, each armed with a lasgun, combat knife, and a pistol. [I've transmitted the layout to Sargent Haris and his men, shall I order them to move out?] Jaratu gave a curt nod and the Ultramarine Sargent waved his men forward, weapons at the ready. Putting out a hand to stop Talia who had started forward after the advancing marines, Jaratu spoke softly, "What we are about to face may be understandably difficult for you because of your attachment. I understand if you would like to stay here."

"Thank you sir," Talia's surprise at the Epistolary's thoughtfulness was evident on her face. Squaring her shoulders she faced him, "Whatever my brother has involved himself in must be discovered. As much as I love my brother, the city is more important." Turning back to the street, Talia jogged after the marines.

"Well spoken, young one." Sighing, Jaratu jerked his head, signaling Alexander to follow and strolled after the group advancing down the street. 

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Moving up the stone steps of the bank Sargent Haris looked around carefully, alert for his Power Armor's advanced senses to trigger. Nothing. 

"Take the door." The Sargent flattened himself next to the door as the marine behind him kicked the door in. In moments they were all inside, spread to the sides, crouched and ready for the fire that never came. A quick scan of the area showed an empty lobby full of decaying chairs and rusty metal counters. Using the memory of the bank's interior that he had received from Zell, Sargent Haris moved toward the back of the room where a staircase led down to the basement. 

[There are six men hiding upstairs, the rest are in the basement, but I can't get a clear reading. It seems almost like they are asleep]

{Interesting. Take the girl and go clear out the upstairs, we'll figure out what is going on downstairs}

Nodding, Zell tapped Talia on the shoulder lightly, motioning her to follow him upstairs as Jaratu made his way over to Sargent Haris and his squad. 

"Go ahead Sargent."

"Yes sir. You heard him squad, weapons at the ready. You know what to do."

Moving down the stairs after the Space Marine squad, Jaratu paused slightly as the faint sounds of lasfire drifted down from the upper levels punctuated with a series of screams. Smiling grimly he continued his way into the basement toward the door his man had disappeared through.

As soon as he walked through the door he knew something was wrong. The small circular room he entered was empty but for the gruesome remains of what might have been a human. Far to mutilated to be identifiable, the pile of bloody meat and bone was arranged carefully, surrounded by runes drawn in blood. Drawing his pistol and activating his force mace, Jaratu steeled himself for what was ahead and moved purposefully through the door leading out of the chamber into a narrow hallway with a closed door at the end, the Ultramarines who had just come down, no where in sight.

"Sargent Haris." Silence. Jaratu swore under his breath. "Alexander, something's wrong, get down here."

"We're on our way." Alexander's voice sounded odd coming over the crackly vox channel instead of directly into his mind. Jaratu sped up as he approached the doorway, smashing through it into one of the most bizarre scenes of his entire life. Standing in the middle of a blood drenched room was a man in his mid thirties, naked from the waist up, his tightly muscled chest was covered in runes, cut into his flesh. Hands on his hips he smiled wolfishly at the astounded librarian. 

Around him were the bodies of a dozen men and women, stripped completely naked and similarly cut. Frozen in positions of extreme anguish, they looked like wax dolls, each tied down with thick rope even though they were motionless. Slightly outside the circle three robed figures were crumpled on the ground, bloody knives held loosely in their limp hands. Jaratu took the frozen scene in as he burst through the door, his momentum carrying him forward a few steps where he tripped over the crumpled bodies of the five Ultramarines who had preceded him down the stairs.

Stumbling forward Jaratu felt his body going limp as he came closer to the circle, finally crashing to the floor where he lost his grip on his pistol. Struggling to reach it, Jaratu felt as if his body was made of lead. Chuckling to himself the man stepped daintily out of the circle and moved toward Jaratu who immediately felt his lethargy increase. Coming to a stop in front of the now motionless librarian, the marked man leaned over and and inspected him closely. 

"Huh. You mortals get easier and easier every time I come back. You would think it would be the other way around, but it seems you grow progressively weaker as time moves on." Here the man seemed to notice Jaratu's outstretched hand reaching for his bolt pistol. "Well now, we couldn't have that, now could we?" Picking up the gun he turned it toward on of the marines on the floor behind Jaratu. "I'll never understand why you use these...things..." he muttered under his breath, "so much more satisfying to use your claws." Casually pulling the trigger, there was a sharp crack as the bolt stuck the marine's throat armor and exploded in a spray of blood, drenching the back of Jaratu's head with blood. Blinking the blood out of his eyes, the man chuckled again and tossed the gun aside. 

Wrapping a hand around Jaratu's throat, he stood, easily lifting the librarian, power armor and all, off of the ground. Pulling the mace out of Jaratu's nerveless fingers, the man smiled again. "Forgive my bad manners, I am Marak, Humble Servant of Garratu'lak, Keeper of Secrets." Looking down at the mace in his hand and then speculatively at Jaratu's power armor and the door to the left, Marak tossed Jaratu up in the air and swung the mace. The force of the blow sent Jaratu smashing through the wall next to the door, as well as shattering the power armor on Jaratu's left thigh. Looking slightly disappointed by his inability to hit Jaratu through the door, Marak strolled toward the hole Jaratu had made in the wall.


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## Inquisitor Varrius (Jul 3, 2008)

IntereoVivo said:


> She did not report heresy because she was *afraid* the *Inquisition* would come and kill everyone involved without finding out what was actually happening.


Your grammar and writing are getting much better! Congratulations on the latest installment, and your introduction of a daemon. Anxiously awaiting the next part,
Varrius.


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

Inquisitor Varrius said:


> Your grammar and writing are getting much better! Congratulations on the latest installment, and your introduction of a daemon. Anxiously awaiting the next part,
> Varrius.


Fixed, thanks again. 

Next section should be coming by the end of the week.


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## IntereoVivo (Jul 14, 2009)

And Zell is back. This is a continuation of his adventure with Jaratu.

I'm trying to use more points of view in this bit (see Comm.Ploss' writer's circle post). Let me know what you think.
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"Go back to where you came from, fiend!" Jaratu spat the words at Marak's blood covered face, wincing as he tried to stand on his shattered leg. Chuckling softly to himself the possessed man licked at the blood around his lips, stalking forward toward the struggling Epistolary. Jaratu, fighting against the growing darkness, gritted his teeth and hauled himself upright, desperately trying to contact Alexander's mind. Focusing himself once again, Jaratu forced the darkness away and reached out into the warp, damming the flow in front of him and then releasing it in a wave, straight at the advancing Daemon. Marak staggered slightly but continued to move forward as again and again Jaratu gathered his energy to throw at Marak, each attack weaker then the last. As the daemon neared, stepping around the strewn rubble, the paralysis Jaratu felt earlier slowly returned, making it harder and harder for him to move or focus. 

Fumbling for his combat knife, the only weapon he had not lost in his flight through the wall, Jaratu muttered a prayer to the Emperor and prepared himself for death. The silver plated knife slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering on the stone floor as Marak stopped in front of the now motionless Epistolary. Staring at the librarian insolently Marak casually kicked a leg out, striking Jaratu's broken knee, causing him to colaspe, shards of agony stabbing through his body. Careful to avoid the sliver blade on the ground next to Jaratu, Marak squatted down beside his victim, leaning over to grab Jaratu's face. Studying it carefully the daemon nodded and tightend his grip, splintering the bones in Jaratu's jaw without effort. Delighted by the pain in Jaratu's eyes, Merek released him and stood, basking in palpable suffering of the paralyzed man at his feet. 

For Jaratu the world was pain. Unable to do so much as blink, it felt as though he was being burned alive, the smashed bones in his body grinding together as his tormentor began to kick his leg and face. Each moment brought an eternity of pain, each moment sharper and harder then the last. 

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_"It was at this point that you experienced Zell's memory?"

"Yes Sir. Well, I assume it was his memory. All of the others who survived distinctly remember witnessing it as well and none of us ever experienced it in real life."

"Very well, carry on."

"Thank you Sir. It was as if a light was lit in my mind. The pain was gone and I was kneeling in a warm room behind a small desk, worn smooth with use. At the front of the room towered a priest, the headmaster of the orphanage I suddenly knew I was in. Pointing to the litany written on the broken blackboard beside him, the priest read each word aloud, pausing for all of the students to repeat the line after him. Together we chanted it.

For the Glory of the Emperor,
Whose Light Will Never Leave Me.
For the Glory of the Emperor,
Whose Strength Will Never Fail Me.
For the Glory of the Emperor,
Never Shall I Falter.
For the Glory of the Emperor.

This litany resounded throughout my entire being, it was as if it was physically pushing the pain away, driving it from my body until I was filled with nothing but a pure white light."

"You don't remember anything else?"

"No Sir, I do not. The next thing I knew I was being cared for in a MedLab."

"Very well, you may go. Please send in Primaris Talia."

"Yes Sir."_

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Marak was having a fabulous time. It had been ages since he last had a host, especially such a carefully prepared one as this. He took a moment to admire the ritual cuts made with surgical precision that adorned the naked torso of his host body. Looking up quickly as his acute senses warned of the approach of the Epistolary's squad, Marak's face split into a wide grin. Storming through the door and quickly splitting to either side the Ultramarine's guns hammered out a staccato of death. His grin growing wider, Marak simply threw his arms wide, as his body absorbed the bolter ammunition, the holes closing as fast as they appeared.

With a roar of rage the marines hefted their chain swords and charged the daemon, only to crumple to the ground as they came close. The largest had been moving so fast that his momentum carried him onward, his body rolling over the debris covered floor, coming to rest at Marak's feet. Stooping, Marak grabbed the Marine's Power Armor collar, hoisting him in the air effortlessly before throwing him against the wall with a sickening crunch. Amused by the hate burning in the eyes of the helpless Astartes on the ground around him, Marak's sharp ears caught a sound behind him and he turned back to the Librarian only to stop in confusion. 

Gone was the desperate pain that had showed in Jaratu's eyes moments before. More astonishing yet was the fact that Jaratu's lips were moving despite him being well within Marak's paralyzing aura. Incredulous the daemon stared as the mumbling Librarian moved slowly to his feet, using the wall to steady himself until he stood, balanced on one leg. This was unthinkable. Never before had anyone, let alone a puny human, been able to withstand Marak's paralysis. Snarling his displeasure Marak was about to launch himself at Jaratu when bolter fire ripped into his back. Diving to the side and spinning to face the new threat, Marak saw the Marines in combat positions, their lips moving the same way Jaratu's were. With a wordless scream Marak hurled himself at the Marines, intending to rip them limb from limb, only to be knocked out of the air by a mental fist. Smashing into a wall with enough force to shake the building, Marak staggered to his feet as Jaratu took a hobbling step away from the wall and unleashed another blast of energy that ripped through the air at the bewildered daemon. 

Diving to the side as the mental assault pulverized the stone where he had just been standing Marak threw a blast of warp energy, cursing as the Epistolary brushed it aside carelessly. This was not going as planned. Why were the humans not lying helplessly on the ground as they should have been? Something was wrong. A quick look around the room showed Marak that staying here was not an option if he wanted to keep this body. Sprinting desperately for the door, Marak burst into the room where the ritual had taken place. Standing in the center of the room was a tall, golden haired human in the Power Armor of a Librarian holding the mace that the Epistolary had dropped. Hearing the sounds of pursuit, Marak moved toward the man cautiously, stopping when the Librarian locked eyes with him, his gaze seeming to burn right through the Daemon. Sensing that this was the source of his trouble, Marak roared his defiance and leaped toward the motionless figure.

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_"Primaris Talia? I'm sorry to hear about your brother. Now, we do have a few things we would like you to help us clear up. Our report says that you witnessed the confrontation between Alexander and your brother who was at that time possesed. Is that correct?"

"...Yes sir."

"I see. All others present in this encounter report seeing a vision at this time. Did you see anything unusual?"

"No sir. All I saw was my...the daemon come through the door and engage in battle with Librarian Zell."

"Interesting. Any idea as to why you did not experience this phenomenon along with everyone else?"

"No sir. Well..."

"Yes?"

"It may have been that the daemon wasn't in the room with me when the Librarian changed."

"Changed?"

"We were just coming down the stairs when we heard a loud crash and we rushed down into the room where the daemon was summoned. When Alexander saw Epistolary Jaratu's mace on the ground something seemed to change about him. It was as if his anger became tangible. Suddenly I could feel his mind like a huge weight pressing down on me, pushing my mind aside. Just as suddenly it disappeared and I saw him looking toward a hole in the wall. Less then a minute later the daemon rushed out and they engaged in combat."

"Interesting. Do you have anything to add to the report you made?"

"No sir."

"Very well, you may go."

"Sir, may I ask a question sir?"

"Go ahead."

"He is crazy, isn't he? Alexander I mean. I've never seen power like that. It was as if he took over Epistolary Jaratu and the Marines' minds and used them as extensions of himself. He also didn't seem to feel the daemon's paralyzing aura and neither did the people he took over. What is he?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. You are now under orders to forget everything you have witnessed. You are not to speak of it to anyone. Understand? Good, that will be all."

"Yes sir."_

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As the daemon launched himself through the air, Zell's sharp mind sprang to life. Quickly analyzing the images he had pulled from the heads of the Marines and Jaratu, he moved smoothly to the side, at the same time swinging the mace in a flat arc at chest hight. The daemon, in the air and unable to dodge grunted as the mace smashed into it's ribs. Landing on his side, Marak flipped quickly to his feet and charged again. This time Zell met him head on, the mace going out to parry a reaching hand as he fired his bolt pistol directly into the daemon's chest. Hardly slowed, Marak plowed into the Librarian and the two of them tumbled to the floor. Grabbing Zell around the throat with a powerful hand the daemon began to squeeze. 

Zell, who had retained his grip on his Bolt Pistol rammed it into Marak's eye socket and pulled the trigger, the force of the bolt snapping back the daemon's head and causing it to lose it's grip on Alexander's throat. With a bloodcurdling scream, Marak jumped to his feet, his head a gory mess. Still screaming in rage and pain, spines began to rip through Marak's host body, growing and thickening as he began to revert to his true form, tearing his way out of his ruined host. A wall of Bolter fire pounded the struggling daemon into the ground as the Marines advanced through the doorway into the summoning room, the roar of their weapons drowning out Marak's screams. Unable to heal fast enough to keep up with the damage being done to his body Marak looked up to see Zell, mace in hand advancing swiftly. 

"For the Glory of the Emperor, you shall die Daemon." With these words Zell brought the mace around in a whistling arc. Still spitting curses, his body caught halfway between his host and his true form, the last thing Marak saw was the lips of the Ultramarines behind Zell, in perfect sync, saying the words along with Zell.


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