# Battles of Kettamet IV: Dawn's Gate



## jasonlotito (May 4, 2009)

_Just want to apologize now for spelling errors, typos, and plain old mistakes. This story was based on this video battle report that I did. I hope you enjoy it. I also hope this is the right location for fiction. Couldn't find anywhere else._

*Battles of Kettamet IV: Dawn's Gate*

*Part 1*

Daemon Lord Muldaven looked across the wasted lands of Kettamet IV, a once prosperous planet of the Imperium of Man, now a warzone where the few prizes that remain are killed for without hesitation. Kneeling low on the hill top, his gaze settled on a long abandoned outboard town that must have once housed a refueling station. The scouts had named the town Dawn’s Gate. Whatever gave the town its name, however, was not apparent. Dawn did not visit the planet anymore; the blackened skies saw to that.

Flexing his great wings, the daemon looked back over his shoulders and beckoned with clawed hands for Sergeant Tare. The once-man felt the command and started to make his way up the hill. Muldaven turned again and looked out once more across the land, this time focusing on the earth between him and the remains of Dawn’s Gate.

Countless battles and orbital bombardments had driven the soil into a dead and dying state. He smiled, letting his thoughts linger on what had caused the Imperium to attack this planet. A few well placed ambitious and hungry men had caused enough dissent in the populace, enough to draw the attention of the Imperial Inquisitors. When they failed to quell the threat, the fleet came to resolve the matter militarily. Getting spies on board the Indoctima Primus had been easy. Mygar had known the precise codes needed, and a few well doctored scans of the planet made it very clear to the orbiting fleet that Kettamet IV was overrun with daemons. In ignorance, they sent a single detachment of Howling Gryphons space marines to the planet where they were met by Muldaven’s forces. The daemon lord’s smile broadened as he remembered that battle. They were overrun and were forced back, at the last moment being rescued. But the battle had served its purpose, and the Imperium laid the planet to waste. An entire planet of loyal Imperial humans had died to the hands of the people that they had come to see as their saviors. The fleet was destroyed in the middle of the bombardment. Mygar was efficient and quick. Muldaven still remembered the fire raining down that night.

“My lord,” the Sergeant said, “the once-men are ready. The armor is repaired from our last engagement. The fleet reports…”

“I have heard the fleet’s report, Sergeant. I need not here it again. They claim the town is vacant and what we seek is there. Do you doubt Lord Mygar?” asked the daemon prince, his head turning slowly to face Tare. He let his teeth show through his smile.

“No, Lord. I do not doubt Mygar. I do doubt his source, though. Something stirs in the town below. We should go in cautious and ready,” Tare said. His face was stone. Only his shifting eyes gave away his nervousness. Doubting Mygar was always dangerous, even for a Daemon Lord, and especially for a Sergeant. Battlefield promotions were rarely questioned. Muldaven turn back toward the town, letting Tare sweat a bit. Let the man think Muldaven was giving thought to this. Let him think he had made a mistake.

“Do not fear, Tare. I agree with your assessment. Have the once-men board Rhinos in battle formation. Get the Bilecannon up front. I want it clearing the way,” the daemon said, the smile leaving his face. Battle was coming, he was sure. He smelled it in the air. He felt it in the earth.

“Yes, my lord. At once,” Tare said, standing as he walked back down the hill.

Muldaven smiled again. Yes, battle was coming.

*Part 2*

The metallic beast was christened Gutwrencher, and it wore that name proudly. The men inside the tank were squeezed in, not only because of the little room the cabin provided, but also to limit the amount of tossing about they’d have to suffer. The transport was old, very old. Tare couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t gone into battle riding Gutwrencher. The vehicle was old, sure, but like most old things still in service, it was tough. Tough beyond all measure. Gutwrencher had taken hits from countless missiles, plasma guns, cannons, melta fire, innumerable tyranids, and the rhino would not stop. Oh, sure, Tare could remember countless times the vehicles tracks had been thrown, the hull ripped into, the drivers killed, the doors blown wide open, the engine melted. But always the rhino was recovered and repaired, back in service a short time later. It wasn’t a clean vehicle, either. It carried no fancy decorations like the fool Space Marines adorned their transports with. Beyond the sigil of their war band, the Death Fly of Rabis Prime, it was undecorated. It was a machine that had a purpose, a job to do, and it did that job well.

Gutwrencher embodied everything the Death Flies aspired to: unstoppable, unrelenting, unwavering monsters of war free from the tyranny of a false god-emperor.

Beyond the cloud of dust churned up by the tracks of the tank, Tare could see the other two transports following behind. Up ahead, the bilecannon Rolling Grim lead the force toward the town of Dawn’s Gate. The dozer blade, a wall of hardened steel and other metals, cleared the way in front of the Grim while it’s single, large cannon protruded from a small cutout in the top of the blade, waiting to release the shell it invariably held ready. The crew of the Grim was a tough lot. They had to be. Enemies the band faced would focus their fire at the bilecannon in an attempt to bring down the lumbering monstrosity. A lesser man would fall under the fire that tank received, and would not stand the thundering shot it sent in return. Even Tare could not imagine how the once-men operated with as much efficiency as they did.

“Sergeant Tare, Sergeant Telurn requesting comm hook with you,” said a voice through the vox unit. It was Gutwrencher’s driver, Soldier Moratoro, a solid once-man from the moon of Rabis Prime, Rabis Nox.

“Patch him through, Soldier,” Tare said.

A crackling sound indicated the channel switch, and a second later, an voice of a cement brick being dragged across stone came through Gutwrencher’s vox unit.

“Tare, I’m getting readings from up ahead. Can you confirm? Five hundred meters, dead center of town if the reading is right,” Telurn said.

“Hold on, let me check the boards,” Tare said, closing the panel on the door and turning around to look at the monitors and readouts on the inner wall of the rhino. A quick glance later, he said, “I have nothing on thermal imaging, everything looks…” but an electric click sounded as Telurn cut in.

“Check audial, it’s there.”

“Right. Checking now,” Tare said, flipping a few dials and pushing a button. A few seconds later, the screens blinked rapidly as they changed displays, and slowly a picture came into view. Over four-hudered meters ahead a large grouping of targets were massed, and they were moving toward them. “Damn it, Telurn. Four hundred meters confirmed,” Tare said. He opened vox channels to Muldaven, Sergeant Getling, Honor Sergent Vorn, and Cult Master Maem. “Contact at four hundred meters ahead, and closing. Audial readings confirmed. The bugs are coming for us!”

Tare turned around to face his squad of five. Already Muldaven was laying in commands over vox, but the soldiers of the Death Flies already knew what to do. Tare smiled at his squad, already with helmets donned and weapons at the ready. He felt the Rhino shift into higher gear as it propelled itself faster and faster toward the awaiting enemy.

“Death Flies! Battle arms, once-men!” he bellowed.

“For the glory of Rabis!” his squad shouted back. Gutwrencher’s front pitched up, then down, and Tare could hear the crashing glory of the rhino smashing through half destroyed ruins.

“For the glory of Mygar!” his squad shouted again. Tare could feel the battle heat take him. He could smell his blood, taste his blood, feel his hearts pound faster and faster as it prepared for the oncoming battle. Raising his powered fist before him, he let the final verse of the Death Flies battle call fall over him.

“For the glory of Father Nurgle!” they finished with a final shout that shook the insides of the rolling box with it’s might.

“Yes, my kin, for the Lord of All!” Tare intoned.

*Part 3*

Telurn closed his vox as soon as the battle shouts died down. Fitting his helmet into place, the Sergeant spared a glance at his soldiers. Each one bore a bolter, except for Galland and Moor, the plasma gunners. Those two cradled their weapons with care, the plasma injection coils heating up in preparation for battle. Galland and Moor never left the side of their weapons. One too many tales of a plasma gunner mistreating his weapon and in the next engagement having it blow up, taking arms and head from the offending soldier. Some would call the two crazy, but Telurn understood why they carried the dangerous weapons. In a fire fight, a plasma weapon was better than a bolter. Each shot from a plasma gun was twice the strength of a bolter. Where a bolter shot would bounce of the thick hide of a carnifex or the armor of a terminator, a plasma shot would plow through and not slow down.

Telurn heard the grinding of the breaks and the rhino, Hellboar, ground to a halt. The side doors opened and Telurn disembarked first, his squad following without hesitation. Moving up the hill in front of him, Telurn spotted Cult Master Maem and Cult Master Grol setting up their support positions. The walking behemoths in age old terminator armor looked more like miniature dreadnoughts. Embedded into their armor were weapons of many different types: lascannons, meltas, flamers, and that was just attached to the right arm. Holding the weapons in place was the armor and flesh, pulsing and moving even now. Telurn couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of what warp infested power they had taken in to become what they were.

“Sergeant Telurn,” said a low, grating voice. “Your squad is to setup to our left. Support the flank and make sure nothing reaches us,” Cult Master Maem said. Grol didn’t acknowledge them.

“Yes, Maem,” Telurn spoke, already moving in that direction.

“Sergeant! You forget yourself,” growled Maem. He shifted his great mass and faced Telurn. “You will learn your place, Telurn, or you will die. Now appease me.”

Telurn’s jaw tightened, his knuckles growing white as they gripped his bolter. He felt his teeth grinding together, pushing harder and harder, before he let them open in reply. “My apologies, Cult Master Maem. If it pleases you, I will finish my service here with my death, or I shall leave your presence and serve as ordered.”

Maem almost spat his reply before facing back to the town. “Be gone from my site, and be glad that the master has need of you.”

Telurn hesitated only a moment to cast a twisted smirk at the vile Cult Master before turning back to his soldiers, who had wisely kept moving into position.

Settling into position, he looked out over the town, and for the first time studied the battlefield before him. He knew why they were here. The space marine’s had left a hulk of a dreadnought here. It was long dead, but the technology was needed. The Death Flies didn’t have the service of the Mechanicum of Mars to support them, so they scrounged everything they used. In a way, he felt like a rodent searching for scraps of leftover food. But better a rodent free than a pet imprisoned by a false god emperor. There were other reports that a downed shuttle craft had been sighted here, and any information that could be taken was needed.

Muldaven’s voice came through over the vox. “Tyranid sighted. Battle is upon us. They are coming!”

No battle shouts this time. The Death Flies were focused now. Dug into their position, Telurn’s squad would not move for the end of the world. Nothing could pull them from their spot. They held the high ground, they had cover, and they were covering the left flank.

Suddenly, off in the distance near the center of the line, the Bilecannon roared to life and the ground shook. In the middle of the town, great cloud of earth, stone, and metal flew into the air. Then, running quickly through the cloud, over the rock and through the crater, he saw them. First he just saw shadows, but only for a moment. Countless insect like creatures with talons the size of a man running across the open ground straight at them; he could make out large creatures known as genestealers amongst smaller gaunts, but he couldn’t tell how many came. Floating above the giant herd of tyranid were giant floating gaunt-like heads with long tails that hung down below: zoanthopes. Psychers, he knew. He had felt their mental waves of destruction before. This was no small force, these tyranid were here to kill.

From off to his right, the Cult Masters’ lascannons sizzled as they opened fire aiming at a target beyond Telurn’s vision. Their resounding laughter and howls of rage gave evidence to which missed his target and which struck dead on.

Telurn returned his focus to the gaunts ahead of him. With a quick mental calculation for distance, he opened his squad’s vox channel and said, “Open fire!” No sooner had he opened the vox channel and issued the command then the bolter and plasma fire flared all around. Ahead, he saw the limbs of gaunts fly away, torn from the bodies. The gaunts were beyond number, and even after reloading his bolter, Telurn could not tell that all that fire had slowed the hoard. The Bilecannon roared to life again, and he saw a giant explosion erupt in the middle of the hoard of gaunts and genestealers. Gaunt claws and genestealer legs and tyranid limbs rained down from the skies, pouring on top of the advancing horde of bugs.

Yet still Telurn could not see that it had made a difference. The tyranid did not slow.

*Part 4*

Sergeant Tare reached over to the boarding switch and flipped open a cover revealing a small button beneath. He pressed the button. Over head, the loud clicking of several locks sounded as the firing points in the roof of Gutwrencher unlocked. The doors opened, and his squad stood to their full height, looking out the top of the rhino. Immediately they opened fire. Tare moved to the right side and opened the hatch’s viewport and looked out. What he saw was frightening. Tare had expected a horde of gaunts or genestealers, not what was bearing down on the Gutwrencher. Not fifty meters away a giant carnifex was charging right at the rhino. Tare stared in horror. The beast would reach the rhino, tear into its hull, and rip his mean apart. Suddenly, out the left of the viewports window, he saw all hope fade. One carnifex was bad.

Two was impossible. The other beast was slowly making its way toward the rhino as well. Tare looked back and noticed his mean, still firing. Melta weapons and bolter fire, would that be enough? Tare flexed his right hand, encased in a might power fist. He could tear the head off a terminator with this. Could he rip the arms off a carnifex? He might find out today.

Gutwrencher lurched forward, turned right, and sped up. The view port turned away from the carnifex, and Tare knew that the rhino was moving toward the beasts. Tare moved over and pulled himself up, looking out the firing point. Without warning, a sudden wave of pure force washed over him, his mean, and Gutwrencher. He heard the scream of metal as it stretched and flexed under the mental onslaught. Out in the distance he saw the zoanthrope. With two carnifxes and a zoanthrope, Tare could not imagine things getting any worse. He’d have to reevaluate the limits of his imagination, he thought. Behind the zoanthrope he saw a hive tyrant. The grotesque beast was surrounded by giant beatles, dwarfed by his the tyrant, but Tare knew that each one was large them he was.

Then from behind the rhino, a large impact struck the ground and Tare felt heated air surround him. Expecting a large winged tyranid, he was relieved to find the daemon lord. The daemons attention was on the battle before him, and satisfied with the progress, made to take flight again. As soon as the great daemon was in the air above the rhino, Tare saw an explosion of bio-mass strike Muldaven and send him back to the ground. At the same time, another rolling blast of psychic energy rolled across Tare and slammed into Muldaven, pinning him to the earth. The great daemon pushed up from the ground and howled in range, but Tare could see the damage done. Skin had been flayed away, blood poured from Muldaven’s mouth, and still the bio-mass ate through his muscle.

Tare turned forward again, and saw three great giant tyranid even closer to them now. Gutwrencher lurched back into gear, and started moving forward again. From over his shoulder two shots of lascannon fire flew, striking the carnifex. Lascannon fire could stop a rhino. A single shot could halt a bilecannon. A single shot could destroy a land raider. The carnifex shrugged off attacks and barreled ever closer.

Soldier Moratoro called over the rhino’s vox, “Smoking up, Sergeant!”

Tare dropped down into the cabin as he heard the popping sound of the smoke canisters firing. He knew what this meant. They were moving even closer to the tyranid. The smoke would give them cover as they made their way to the front line. No, that was wrong. They were the front line. They were moving the front line forward.

Gutwrencher came around to the left and came to a stop. Tare heard the release of the locks on the side door. Taking a step forward, he pulled it open, and stopped. Not twenty paces in front of him stood the carnifex. The beast wasn’t looking at him, it was eyeing something beyond the rhino, but a moment later, it slowly turned its head to face him. Despite the rumbling of the rhino’s engine, despite the sound of his squad disembarking, despite all the bolter fire and the explosions, he could hear the low growl of the giant tyranid as it eyed him. The beast roared up onto its legs, and howled in fury as it leaned forward and started to charge Tare. Not Tare’s squad, but Tare himself. He could see those eyes, and he knew they were focused on him.

From over head, streaming across the battle field, to lascannon shots sped at the great beast and struck it square in the chest. Tare didn’t have time to become hopeful. The carnifex wasn’t slowed.

Tare’s squad opened fire at the charging beast. The melta weapons slammed into the chitinous armor, burning deep, but cleary not affecting the behemoth. Tare swore under his breath and saw the inevitable conclusion to the beasts charge, and prepared himself. Pulling out his bolt pistol with his left hand, balling his power fist in his right hand, he roared in defiance and charged the tyranid. Pulling back his fist, a moment before impact, he swung.

It was no contest. He found himself flying through the air, striking the side of the rhino, and falling to the ground in a daze. His squad was up and swinging their chain swords. One of the soldiers got around behind the carnifex and was able to plunge his sword deep into the beast’s tail. It spun with amazing speed, and grabbed the startled soldier. He was able to bring his bolt pistol around to fire before the tyranid bit off his head.

Tare stood up, and he knew something was wrong. He felt a strong pain in the back of his neck. Reaching around, he felt a piece of his helm had been torn free in the attack. Reaching over, he undid the clasps connecting the helm to his armor, and removed the helmet. Breathing in deep, he turn to face the carnifex just in time to see another soldier impaled on giant talons. As if some unseen force was directing it’s attention, it turned to face Tare while swatting away another attacking soldier, and it roared.

Tare raced forward as the beast stood to its full height. It brought up high it’s two great scything talons and continued to roar. Tare took his final two steps and lept into the air. The scything talons came racing down. Holding his right hand high, he caught one of the talons with his power fist, the other one missing him as he pulled himself inside the reach of the tyranid. With the enormous strength of his power fist, he squeezed his right hand closed around the giant talon. Face to face, Tare could see into the eyes of the vile creature. Pulling his bolt pistol up, he stuck the muzzle up against the creatures head. He heard a snap as the talon split in two. He pulled the trigger, and the bolt pistol fired.

The carnifex finally stopped moving.

Tare breathed heavily while he watched the light of life go out of the beasts eyes. After a few moments, he relaxed his grip, and pushed himself off the carnifex. He had been lucky. His squad had been lucky; only two dead.

Suddenly from his vox, he heard Moratoro’s voice.

“Sergeant, I’m getting reports in from fleet. They say another tyranid horde is closing in fast from the north. They will be here shortly,” he said, far too clamly.

“Soldier, what are you babbling about.”

“Sergeant, we are getting orders from Muldaven to break through the tyranid line and get to that dreadnought. Apparently it’s more than just spare parts.”

“Damnit,” Tare growled. He glanced across the battlefield, and spied out in the middle of all fighting a giant wreck, the remains of a dreadnought, their primary objective. “What is it? What’s so bloody important about that wreck?”

“I don’t know sarge, the Dameon Lord wouldn’t say. Just said that you need to get your men over their now. “

“Right, embarking now,” he said. Turning to his soldiers, he said, “Back inside! We are going to break our way through the line and get to that damned wreck over there.” Tare lifted his had to point toward the awaiting dreadnought, but when he turned to look, he saw the other carnifex turning toward him and his squad. He recognized that look, and he knew what was coming. He didn’t want to tempt fate twice. “Move it, now!”

There was no chance though, he saw. The creature was too close and it would reach him before he could get back into the rhino. Still, he had to try.

Five paces from the door to the rhino, with two of his soldiers already inside, the carnifex lept at him, a furious howl coming from its mouth. Tare felt the entire battle slow.

He half turned in mid-stride and brought his power fist up in front to shield his bare face. He pulled his bolt pistol around to take aim. The carnifex was flying through the air now, and he knew that the power fist would not stop the crushing force of the creature for destroying him. He knew the bolt pistol, even if he could get it around in time, would slow the monsters descent.

Suddenly, as if time caught up, everything happened all at once. From the sky Muldaven hurtled down at the carnifex, slamming it into the ground. The great daemon lord growled in a might rage, pulled back his sword arm, and swung it full force, the blade cutting a large swath of destruction across the creature. He slammed his other hand down, wrapping his fingers around the great monster’s maw, and squeezed. Muldaven roared in triumph.

Tare kept moving. The battle was amazing. The power the daemon lord possessed was immense. To wield such power… Tare was in awe. He wanted to stay and watch, but he had a duty to attend to. Muldaven demanded it. Mygar demanded it.

The Lord of Decay desired it.

Jumping aboard the rhino, he closed the hatch behind him. Tare smiled in glorious delight. He couldn’t help himself, and turned quickly to open the view port and peered through to watch the battle between the daemon lord and the carnifex. The rhino roared to life, and started to move again. Through the dust and the destruction, Tare spotted the pair of mighty warriors. The carnifex had regained its footing. Both it and the daemon were now circling one another. It was as if the entire battle around them did not exist. Nothing touched them. They were focused so much on one another.

With a speed that awed Tare, the daemon lord leaped high into the air, giving himself even more lift with his giant wings, before diving fast at the tyranid. He held his sword out like a lance, and Tare could hear Muldaven roar in triumph. A finality in that shout that Tare would later see as ironic.

The carnifex had no chance to dodge out of the way, so it did the only thing it could do: use its own giant blades against the falling demon. Too late, Muldaven saw the error of his attack. He could not slow his descent. While the sword struck deep into the monster, the two giant scything talons pierced the daemon’s body. Without hesitation, the carnifex pulled his talons apart, and the daemons body felt away into three distinct and bloody pieces.

With a shake, the carnifex let the sword fall from the wound, and stood defiant over the remains of Muldaven.

Then the carnifex turned to look at Gutwrencher, and though it could not see him, he was sure the monster was looking right at him.

*Part 5*

Telurn’s bolter emptied and the sergeant ducked back down behind cover. He popped out the empty magazine and slapped in a new one. Rising back up, he opened fire again. The tyranid swarmed out from the city now. They were done skulking in the shadows. He could see them climbing over the ruins. He watched as the xenos climbed over their own dead without slowing. They were getting closer, and no amount of bolter fire was going to stop them.

From the behind the hill came another rhino. Third squad, Sergeant Getling’s squad, was moving up into the middle of the wave of gaunts. The rhino slammed into the swarm of creatures, sending them flying away. Telurn watched as Getling jumped out of the rhino, leveled his bolter, and opened fire. The man was insane, but as soon as the rest of third squad laid down fire as well, the gaunts in front of them died in droves. Telurn smirked. Getling was always going for glory. As he watched, Telurn noticed a giant behemoth on the far side of the squad, and he saw the hive tyrant approaching Getling. He must have seen it too, because his men turned and opened fire, bolter and melta fire flying into the great monster and his minions. The drive of the rhino must have seen it, and immediately backed away, leaving Getling and his squad alone.

The gaunts third squad had been firing at used the hive tyrants distraction and came in fast. Telurn’s squad opened fire on them, trying to stop them from reaching Getling, but they were too far and the tyranid numbered too many. The gaunts leapt onto the men, and Telurn watched as three gaunts pulled Getling down. Telurn then watched as the hive tyrant charged in. Telurn watched for a long time. Slowly, one by one, Death Flies were pulled to the ground. Then finally, none were left standing, and the hive tyrant roared.

Telurn could do nothing but continue firing down on the horde.

* * * * *

Sergeant Tare tore open the door, leaned into the driver’s cabin, and said, “Open the damned doors, Moratoro! We need to take that bastard down before he rips this box apart!”

Moratoro spun, and he said, “I got my orders! I take you there, I take you now! Nothing is going to stop me, got it?”

“Got it, but he don’t,” he said calmly, looking through the ports in the front of the rhino into the eyes of the charging carnifex.

The beast struck the vehicle, pulling it up and almost tossing it back. The rhino was airborn for a second before landing hard into the ground. The engine screamed in pain and then died. Tare was on the floor of the cabin. His squad was lying throughout the cabin attempting to get back up. Moratoro, buckled secure to his seat, was trying to get Gutwrencher started again. Tare got up, stepped back toward the driver, and spoke, “Open the doors now, or we die.”

Moratoro stopped, turned, and stared. For a moment the two soldiers locked eyes, before Moratoro nodded and flipped a switch. Tare heard the hiss of the seals as they released the doors from their locks. “Now, get this hulk moving toward that objective. We’ll distract the beast,” and without another word, Tare turned, opened the side door, and stepped out.

The monster was standing only a few meters away, and Tare sensed that it had been preparing to charge the rhino again. It watched as the soldiers got out, but its eyes never left Tare. The soldiers and the carnifex stood there pinned to their spots, staring at each other. The rhino’s engine flared to life, bucked forward, and started moving toward the dreadnought.

The carnifex spread its giant scything talons wide, opened its tooth-lined mouth wide, and roared. Tare felt the earth tremble.

“Right, let’s get this done,” Tare said, and he opened fire. For the second time today, his squad faced the might of the hive fleets elite troopers, the carnifex. This carnifex wasn’t just any, but it had killed Tare’s lord daemon Muldaven. The carnifex took round after round of fire, it’s hard armor-like skin splintering away. Tare thought he saw it smile.

It jumped, lightning fast and right at Tare. The sergeant tumbled low and to the right, diving behind the giant beast as it flew past him. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the beast’s armored tail. It struck him hard across his legs, sending him flipping over and over, landing hard. He lost his grip on his bolter. Rolling over, he pushed himself up in time to take a direct hit across his left side sending him flying off to the right. The carnifex was right behind his flying body. He watched it jumping after him as he tumbled through the air. He struck the ground, and before he could stop rolling, the carnifex was on top of him. He saw it lift its right talon high up, and swung down. Tare started to roll, but the beast was far too fast and the talon sliced neatly through his left shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Tare stared in horror as he saw the carnifex pull up its left talon to deliver the killing blow. Tare pulled his right arm up to ward off the blow. The talon came down.

Tare caught the great blade inches from his chest in the grip of his might power fist. The carnifex screamed. With a twist, he ripped the talon in two. The carnifex reared up, pulling its other talon up out of the ground, pulling Tare up over the tyranid’s head. Tare felt himself slide down the talon a bit. Reaching out with his right arm, he grabbed the other talon, but he didn’t snap this talon off. Instead, he pulled on it, pulling the talon through his body. Pulling Tare closer to the head of the carnifex.

The great beast jerked its head in his direction, and for a moment Tare could see it was pondering what he was doing. Tare smiled. The sergeant swung his open fist out, wrapping it around the head of the great beast, and squeezed. The head exploded in a wash of brain matter, blood, and other fluids that Tare did not care to know. Tare let himself fall on top of the carnifex as it fell back.

Moments after falling, he heard the chain swords of his squad ripping through the talon still impaled through him. He was pulled up, and he found his footing. Finally, standing on his own, he looked out across the battlefield. The tyranid force was pulling back. The hive tyrant was fleeing, and the gaunts were scurrying between ruins trying to get out of range of the bilecannon. Tare knew they didn’t have long to collect what they need to collect. Already over the vox he could hear reports about drop ships coming in to retrieve them and their prize. They had maybe twenty minutes before the place was overrun with ten times the tyranid they had faced. But they had won through the day.

* * * * *

They had won the battle.

For what? Tare thought. What was so bloody important about this dreadnought that Mygar was willing to throw away the lives of a daemon lord for it?

From behind, he heard loud ponderous footsteps, and Tare knew it was the Cult Masters approaching. He turned, looking up at them as they approached.

“Cult Master Maem, Cult Master Brom and Cult Master Ordam both fell in battle. Their bodies are over…” Tare was saying, but Maem raised a clawed hand.

“I care not for the fallen dead. They were weak and deserved the fate they were given. I came to pass on a message from Mygar, who witnessed the battle here today.”

Tare nodded. Mygar was a psycher and usually watched battles form orbit. Tare had assumed that with this dreadnought being so important to the Lord, he would be watching carefully. That Mygar would seek to watch him in particular, however, was something Tare had not expected.

“What is the message, Cult Master?” Tare asked, reminding himself to remain civil with the warrior.

“Simply that he was pleased by your actions, and that you were to be rewarded when you returned to the fleet above,” Maem said. He hesitated for a moment, and Tare could tell that there was more, and whatever it was, Maem wasn’t sure he liked it. “He… he wanted me to say that such actions are the sign of a Lord.”

Tare looked hard at the Cult Master for any sign of jest. When he was confident there was none, he asked, “Anything else, Cult Master?”

“No, my Lord Master.”

_The End_


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

yes you found the right section for fiction. Looks great what you have so far, i'm printing it out and giving it a more thorough read at the moment. I'll post again when i have some better comments.

Commissar Ploss


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## jasonlotito (May 4, 2009)

Commissar Ploss said:


> yes you found the right section for fiction. Looks great what you have so far, i'm printing it out and giving it a more thorough read at the moment. I'll post again when i have some better comments.
> 
> Commissar Ploss


Thanks.

Once again, sorry for the typos and errors. I've made many corrections in Word, but every time I try to copy/paste into the forums, I lose all the paragraphs, and I have no real desire to go through adding them manually again.

Next time I'll probably just put up a short introduction piece, and then link to a PDF file.

Now, knowing that someone is reading it, I'm quite nervous. I've written a lot, but this is the first time I've really ever gone out of my way to share it. Hope it's entertaining.


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## DAvo001 (Jun 30, 2008)

i liked it. i thought it was really good the way you translated the battle into a story. adding more to the whole, you rolled a 2 and missed thing by fleshing it out. +rep


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## jasonlotito (May 4, 2009)

Working on Chapter 1. The above, I guess, turned out to just be a prologue. There were several things about the original that concerned me.

First, I wanted to know why they needed the dreadnought. Seemed kinda dumb. Parts, sure, but to risk all that for parts? Didn't make sense. Writing Chapter 1 provided the answer, or at least part of the answer, and sets up the next major scene.

I also wanted to explore the Cult Masters more. They are different, and they are nasty. What do Obliterators do in their down time. So far, I'm still not clear on that, but frankly, they still interest me.

I was also curious why they were called once-men. I used the term, and it sounded interesting, but why "once-men," and why did the Cult Masters frown upon it? Again, Chapter One helps explain it!

I wanted to meet with Mygar, and see who he really is. Why was he interested in the battle for the dreadnought wreckage? More importantly, why did he put Tare in command. These are chaos space marines, after all. Honor and bravery don't exactly win one accolades, and I think Mygar might have other motives. Not sure what they are just yet.

I'm already half way through Chapter One, I think. I've covered Mygar's meeting with Tare, and the Cult Masters' reactions to events. Telurn didn't want to cooperate this evening, but I'm tired, so I'll be back to him tomorrow.

As you can tell, I didn't plan any of this out. In a way, that makes it as exciting for me as I hope it is for you. 

I've had to go back and reread the Prologue, and take notes about who is who, what they do, and started recording names. Some things I discovered that aren't really critical to the story right now is the name of the sector where Rabis Prime is located (Noximunda Sector). Rabis Prime has two moons, Rabis Nox and Rabis Mek. There are 3 other planets I know about, Noxis Prime, Kentis Prime, and Vulgis Prime. They might have moons.

For those curious, Telurn's squad consists of Dent, Ralland, Oden, and Gulph (beside Galland and Moor). Tare's replacement is Gremm. Oh, and Honor Sergeant Vorn is in charge of the Chosen (Chaos Chosen).

I'm not sure what any of that will play, but it's part of the notes.

Anyways, I'll finish up the rough of Chapter 1, and post it here in a new post (same thread). Hopefully you guys will like it. Please, if you read it, comment! Even a simple "cool" let's me know that people are reading it.

Anyways, it's late, and I'm tired. Good night!


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## jasonlotito (May 4, 2009)

Chapter 1

Lord Mygar sat in his great iron chair; his hands clasped in front of him, elbows resting on his great iron desk, and peering over his knuckles at the man in front of him. His eyes stared into the man’s soul, and the man could see the fire in Mygar’s eyes. The twinkling flame that lit the soul of the Lord burned deep, penetrating the man’s inner thoughts. He cast his eyes down slightly, looking instead at the barren desk. He saw Mygar’s lips curl up slightly.

“Do not fear me, Lord Master Tare. You have done no wrong here today. I only wished to speak with you, alone, and lend you my thoughts,” Mygar said. The grin remained.

“I am not afraid, my Lord,” Tare said. With great control, he maintained the outward appearance of a resolute soldier.

“Good. I have no need of Lords that fear, or at least, those that let fear control them. From what I saw on the battlefield, you are not the type to allow that to happen,” Mygar said, rising from his chair. Before Tare could stand as well, Mygar had started walking over to the bulkhead, toward a large star chart on the wall. Tare made his way over. He hadn’t noticed the star chart when he had walked in, though his attention at the time had been focused on Mygar. Now that it was clear that Mygar was going to speak off the map, Tare studied it.

The map was of the Kettamet system. Tare was not surprised. The current campaign required the taking of each of the six planets in the system, as well as the surrounding space, and wrenching it free of all Imperial control. Kettamet IV had fallen, true, but there were still Imperial bases on other planets, and bastions of defense located on a number of moons and asteroids. The Death Flies had been charged with taking Kettamet IV, and had done some according to Mygar’s plans. K-1 had fallen days after K-4, a small planet without much of note. K-2 and K-3 were both uninhabited by civilians, but the military forces that were stationed there were minor. Indeed, the majority of K-3’s Imperial Guard had turned traitor, sending their Commisar’s head as a token of their obedience. K-6 was an ice planet, and had no Imperial outpost on it. K-5, however, had frustrated the Rabis armies. While the Death Flies had taken K-4, the Blood Flies had been tasked with K-5’s acquisition. So far, they had failed The map spelled all this out in clear detail, each detachment, each company, every vehicle and every command squad all across the Kettamet system. It wasn’t until he had been staring at the map for almost a minute that he noticed that the Death Flies were no longer assigned to K-4.

While they had taken the planet, he had assumed they would still be needed for further missions. Their last mission, the retrieval of a imperial dreadnought hulk had been a narrow success, but still a success. Tare could not imagine why Mygar would not see him fit to continue operations on K-4.

“I see you notice K-4’s reassignment,” Mygar said.

Tare nodded, and quickly added, “Yes, my lord, though I hasten to ask what the Death Flies did to will you to remove us from our duties.”

Mygar chuckled, “Remove you from your duties? No, I do not remove you from your duties. I give you new duties. Let the rabble from K-3 see about the Tyranid infestation on K-4. I have need of your resilience and determination elsewhere.” Tare looked over at Mygar at these words, surprised. He had been expending to stay on K-4, and the only other duty he could see was to fight aside the Blood Flies, something he did not wish. Besides, the Death Flies and the Blood Flies simply did not share the same tactics, and would not work together well, he had figured.

“You wonder what other duty I have for you. You wonder if I force you alongside the Blood Flies, to have you demonstrate why the Death Flies are superior,” Mygar said, obviously playing to his ego. Tare knew this, but couldn’t help himself. The Death Flies had conquered K-4, and the Blood Flies had failed. The Death Flies had faced off against space marines and tyranid, foes powerful and mighty. The Blood Flies had only fought against orks. Orks! And the foul beasts still held the majority of the planet. Tare dared to shake his head and smirk at that thought.

“No! I am not here to feed your ego. You are here to do as I will!” Mygar shouted, his eyes flaring wide. Tare felt himself freeze, and almost stepped back, but held himself steady. Almost as quick as it happened, Mygar calmed again, and turn his back on Tare.

“No, you are not to fight alongside the Blood Flies. Instead, your target is the space hulk, Indoctima Primus. There is something aboard that we require, and you are going to fetch it for us,” Mygar said, putting extra emphasis on the word ‘fetch.’ Tare understood. He was being reminded his place. Yes, had please Mygar. He had been promoted. But he was still there to do Mygar’s bidding.

“My Lord Mygar, it shall be done as you command.”

“Yes, I know that!” he snapped again, and spun around. “Yes, damn it, I know.” He yelled again, this time though Tare swore Mygar was looking past him, but he remained still. A moment later, Mygar’s eyes focused again on Tare. “There is something deep within the ship, something that you must bring back; a litco-brief, a book of sorts that the Adaptus Mechanicus kept aboard. You will use a part of the of the dreadnought you recovered to obtain this piece. Do you understand?” asked Mygar, his voice now firm and demanding, in control once again.

“Yes, my Lord,” Tare replied, finally understanding the importance of the dreadnought. The dreadnought might still contain necessary parts that would allow the Death Flies access to parts of the Indoctima Primus they would be otherwise unable to access. Considering the importance of the dreadnought, they might get access to something very important. In this case, the litco-brief, whatever it was, was very important to Mygar. This made it very important to Tare.

“Good. When do you leave?” Mygar asked. He was never a patient one, but he was not stupid.

“Tomorrow. I want the company ready for close-quarters combat, and I want the appropriate gear prepared. I’ll also seek out schematics for the ship and prepare for our incursion,” Tare said. Mygar nodded his approval.

“You may leave me, now.” The last word made Mygar’s intentions clear.

Tare raised his fist to his chest, and made a slight bow, enough to show deference, but not too much. Mygar almost sneered, but waved him off instead. Tare turned, and strode out the door.

* * * * *​
Cult Master Maem slammed his fist into the steel wall, sending it through to the other side. Pulling his fist back, he slammed it down, shattering the table, sending it crashing to the floor. He pull his arm back, and swung it forward, at the wall again. He howled in rage. His fist put another hole in the wall. A servitor walking by the room flung himself against the opposite wall, barely avoiding a crushing death.

“You hated Brom,” Grol said, his slow, rolling voice bringing Maem’s head around in rage, spittle flying in a wide arc.

“Brom was a fool!” Maem bellowed. “Brom was never worthy of the rewards bestowed upon him. He deserved his fast far sooner!” he continued to shout.

“Ordam did not,” Grol replied.

Maem went to say something, his entire body heaving forward, and then he stumbled a step forward with the sudden realization that there was nothing he could say that would counter Grol’s remark.

“No,” Maem said a few moments later, recovering and calming. “No, he did not deserve death. He was worthy. It is a pity he was assigned to work with Brom.”

“Because you refused Brom,” Grol said, standing still except for moving his head slightly to look at Maem.

Maem’s head snapped eye, and his eyes flared. “What do you say? Do you say by my choice, I doomed Ordam?”

“No, only that it could have been you instead of Ordam.”

Maem paused, and considered this. It was true, he decided. Ordam had been equal in strength to Maem and Grol, and a worthy recipient of the power of the Obliterator Cult. If he had been alongside Brom, he would most likely have died instead of Ordam, and as much as he preferred Ordam over Brom, he would have killed Ordam himself if it meant he could live. Maem let his body ease up, and felt himself leaning back against the wall, the one without holes. In the few words Grol shared, he had said so much. He had made it clear to Maem, focused him.

Maem was not angry at the death of half of the Cult Masters in the company. Brom’s death was overdue. Ordam, while more valued, was not Maem’s death. No, it wasn’t the deaths that he was raging against, despite the shouts and howling rage that had absorbed in the last hour. No, it wasn’t that.

It was far worse. It was Lord Master Tare, the soldier. Mygar was a fool.

“You cannot deny his actions,” Grol said, moving around to stand in front of Maem. The bulky terminator army that both wore made the small room feel even tighter. Maem amused himself for a moment considering expanding the room with a few more well placed holes in the walls.

“No, I cannot. But I cannot ignore his luck, either. That is all it was, luck. Even the Daemon Lord fell to the beast, and two in battle? Have you ever heard of that? I would say there was more to the story if Mygar didn’t claim to have witnessed the battle himself,” Maem said, his voice low and grating again, but clearly calming.

“You do not trust Mygar’s ‘claim’?” asked Grol.

“I trust it,” Maem said, waving his hand in the air as if to dismiss the traitorous thought. “Mygar witnessed Tare killing two carnifexes in battle, thereby ensuring our success. But that doesn’t mean Tare did it alone!” Maem raise his voice, but quickly forced himself to calm again.

“So you desire accolades for your part…” Grol started to say before Maem cut him short with a wave of his hand.

“No! I simply don’t want to see a once-man leading the Cult.”

“But Mygar is…” Grol started, but once again, Maem stopped him.

“Mygar is chosen by the gods themselves. He is their avatar, imbued with their strength. He is not a once-man, he merely shares their form. Mygar is not a once-man,” Maem said, his voice slowing, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of the words.

“But Tare was not chosen by the gods, merely by Mygar?” Grol asked. Maem almost laughed. ‘Merely by Mygar’ is what he asked, as if anything Mygar did was meek. It was a question that forced Maem to think. He could let Mygar lead the Cult. He could take orders from the daemon lords. He could not, however, stomach being led by a once-man, a being so impure that the gods let them remain as terra-born. Even their name, once-man, was an insult. No longer men of terra, but nothing more. That had once been men; that was all. They weren’t anything. They were nothing, and Maem did not want a nothing leading him.

“Mygar’s will is the gods’ will,” Maem said, shaking his head slowly as if trying to come to terms with the reality himself. “Tare is our Lord Master now, he leads our company, and we can only…”

“Weakness must be expunged,” Grol said, his slow voice seeming to come out quick, cutting off Maem’s words. “Tare succeeded, this is true. But promotion does not excuse weakness, and weakness must be purged.” Maem recognized the source of the words. The Wyld Libra Primus, the First Book of the Warp. The word of the gods was clear:

Weakness must be purged. Weakness leads to defeat. Weakness of the mind, weakness of the flesh, weakness of the non-believers; all must be purged or nothing will rule, and this cannot come to pass.

Maem nodded in understanding.

“What do you think we should do, Cult Master?” Maem asked, using the formal title for Grol, indicating his respect.

“Why Cult Master,” Grol said in return, a smile finally finding a way onto his dry and cracked lips. “I think we should ensure that Lord Master Tare finds his final glory in battle.”

Chapter 1... to be continued...


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