# The Emperor Protects



## Dirge Eterna

This is my new project. I had a radical idea, but some of the gribbly loose ends need to be tied up. To take away any confusion, the year is 740.M42.

_______________________________________________________________________

Captain Horst of the Deathwatch turned to face the creature. Two long claws had sliced through his armor, and it had almost killed him. To be honest, he wondered why it hadn't. It had been a foot from decapitating him when it clutched it's head, screeched in pain, and toppled over. He instructed his men to bind it.


Magister Francias Lokan had seen it all. 

He had seen men turned to crazed machines by the Inquisition. He had seen the hives on Volcanis Ultor be turned to nuclear fire after Ghargatuloth rose. He had seen amazing and terrible things, but the creature before him took his breath away.

The Lictor stood almost nine feet tall at the shoulder, more than eleven with it's claws. It weighed exactly one hundred and six kilograms. It's pheramone levels were normal. It was, in all respects, a normal Lictor. 

Except it wasn't trying to kill them all.

When Lokan had brought the creature in, he had thrown it into the holding pen, and released the clasps holding it together. It had simply stood up and paced. It's claws scraped designs into the ceiling where they toutched. Lokan touched the intercomm, wondering.

"Don't do that. Those ceiling panels are expensive."

The Lictor whipped around. Lokan looked on in amazement. The creature, which could have used him as a cleaning rag, looked up at the scratches, and lowered it's massive claws.

Lokan picked up the vox next to his personal one. It was black and had a small symbol on it.

=I=

"Hello?" said Lokan. "I think we found it."


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## angels of fire

nice im liking it as per usual hopefully this will turn out as good as the last one k:


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## Dirge Eterna

Glad you liked it. I think you're the only one to have read all three of my fics, even The Emperor's Fist, like a month ago. Only In Death was my favorite so far...until I got this idea. Stay tuned for the next really kick-ass installment! 

-Dirge


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## Blackhiker

This seems incredibly interesting


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## Dirge Eterna

Inquisitor Mikal Saphentis had recieved calls from Lokan before. Most were meaningless witches or xenos. The Black Ships always needed more fodder, and the Adepta Biologis were on the brink of breakthroughs on almost every race Humanity had yet to destroy. He thought back to the histories, where they had tought him how the Emperor's forces had nearly obliterated the entire Tau race during the Second Democles Gulf Crusade. How the Ultramarines had been overrun by Tyranids, and the same Tyranids destroyed by seven Space Marine Chapters.

He quickened his pace. The Biologis had been hysteric when he called frantically over Saphentis' private line. 

The creature stood almost twice as tall as Saphentis with it's claws unfolded, and it was hunched over a dead carcass when he walked in.

Saphentis was instantly taken aback. The xenos was picking meat carefully from the body, inspecting each bite. It picked a bone from it's teeth and flicked it in a disturbingly human gesture.

Lokan practically skipped over to the inquisitor, oozing happiness.

"You see!? It's practically sentient! Not the mindless creatures the Ordo Xenos has been hunting for hundreds of years, but a new generation entirely!"

Saphentis scratched his short beard thoughtfully. "Biologis, calm yourself. You and I have no idea if this thing is merely toying with us."

Lokan grinned. "Ah, but I do, inquisitor. Observe."

He pushed a button on a small remote. A servitor trundled to the door, and opened it, stepping into the airlock. The door closed and sealed. The second door opened. The Lictor cocked it's head slightly as the noise filtered into the holding tank. 

The servitor slowly approached the monster, and stopped a foot from it. The Lictor moved back.

The servitor once again moved closer. The Lictor growled quietly and once again moved back.

The servitor began to trundle forward, and the Lictor gave a screech of frustration and shoved the machine back a few feet. The servitor's weapons powered up. 

Lokan pressed a second button. "Begin phase two."

The servitor fired a single shot into the Lictor's torso. It screeched in rage and sprang forwards, it's massive claws opening with a sickening _snick_. The servitor had just enough time to look up before the Lictor's claws ripped it into flecks of grey flesh and torn circutry. 

The Inquisitor stared at the one-way glass, unbelieving.

"It only acts in self-defense."

Lokan nodded. "Harlen's teaching it to play regicide. It's not very good, but it actually responds to the teaching. Observe."

He pushed a large button, and the intercomm clicked.

"Lictor, please place the largest item in the room close to the window."

The Lictor hissed it's frustration, staring at the half-eaten pile of very dead grox. Then with a quiet snarl it picked up the largest part of the servitor and placed it gently before Lokan's window. Saphentis' mouth dropped open.

The intercomm clicked again. "Thank you."

The Lictor hissed quietly and turned back to it's meal.

Saphentis turned to the Biologis. 

"Bring me a ship. It's coming back to the Xenos with me." 

Lokan nodded in agreement. "I'll have the _Explorator_ brought up from the hangers."


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## Dirge Eterna

It was a long time before the Lictor awoke in the holding cells aboard _Explorator_. Sucking in a long breath of recycled air, it coughed, choked, and spit out the life support lines that had been attached to it's windpipe. The Lictor hissed in frustration.

Saphentis had been insistent. The creature was to be under containment. 

A panel near the wall read SEALED: CONTAINMENT 05

The Lictor looked at it in fascination. It pressed a single button on the panel.

_Beep._

The Lictor pried the cover from the panel. A group of buttons were surrounded by a tangle of multicolored wires.

The xenos pulled a wire loose from it's moorings and touched it to a second. The door hissed as it lost the seal.

MALFUNCTION: CONTAINMENT COMPROMISED

The Lictor's flesh hooks sprang from it's chest, and hooked under the door. With a low snarl, the Lictor pulled the door up into the ceiling. It leapt to the other side as the heavy door fell down.

A cogitator sat in front of a quietly sleeping rating. The man's shirt was filthy and he smelled vaguely of machine oil, grease, and rotten beef. The Lictor leaned over him (No small feat in a small room) and pressed the button to re-seal the doorway into the claustraphobic cell. The Lictor hissed in satisfaction as the panel switched back to SEALED: CONTAINMENT 05. It spied a large vent set into the ceiling above the console. With some difficulty, the Lictor crawled silently into the vent, it's scales instantly changing from a earthy brown-grey to a perfect match with the gunmetal vent shafts. A flesh hook reached out and speared the rating's ration pack, drawing it up into the vent. 

With a small _cruch_, the pack disappeared between the Lictor's jaws, and it gave one last look at the small cell and the sleeping rating.

It turned to crawl down the vent.


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## HaloZealot2

There was a second Damocles Gulf Crusade?

Besides that, pretty good.


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## Kapeesh

Man, U RULE!!


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## Dirge Eterna

Look to the beginning. The year is 740.M42

The 42ND Millenium. A thousand years from the Imperium we know now.

-Dirge


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## drake1813

Really nice idea. But wouldn't the whole imperium be after these guys for heresy? The imperium is REALLY religious you know.


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## CATzeentch

Dude i love this story. it gives a sense of calm behavior that we all know that tyranids have. But at the same time we can't shake the fact that it could be a cat toying with its food. Its BRILLIANT!!:biggrin:


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## Dirge Eterna

@Drake: The Adepta Biologis captures, studies, and executes Xenos (Aliens), Witches, and Mutants. _Xenology_, a Black Library book, is based off their findings.

@CATzeentch: Thank you. I have some more plans for The Lictor...but you'll have to wait and see them. *Maniacal Laughter*

-Dirge


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## angels of fire

I always wanted to know what would happen in the 42nd millenium. I like the idea of the tau being destroyed never really liked them myself :grin:


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## Dirge Eterna

If you'll notice, the two races I rant on about hating (Weedy mech Tau and Ultrabeakies) have both been convieniently destroyed. 

It's a good universe. No more righteous blue dudes and weedy tan xenos.

-Dirge


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## angels of fire

To right, kill the smurfs then wipe out the wimps ...its natural selection:biggrin:


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## Dirge Eterna

Well, before I get too off-track......
________________________________________

The Lictor watched in fascination as the men walked down a thin gangplank set across the struts of the ship. One was fat, and had a beard growing from under his hood. The second was skinny and looked sick. He had a scarf tied over his forehead, and twitched occasionally. Behind them, a massive black-armored giant clutched an equally massive weapon. A small procession of Guardsmen were behind the warrior, with lasguns and a ragged leader with a glowing blade tied around his waist.

The Lictor's eyes took each of them apart. The first man was obviously the Security Chief. The fat man's form was tightly wrapped in carapace armor and he had a shotgun on his back. The second was a Navigator, no doubt. The twitchy man's scarf moved every once in a while, revealing his third Warp Eye. The giant was a Space Marine, probably one of the Deathwatch. And the Guardsmen looked different from regular prey the Lictor had hunted as part of the Hive Mind, so it thought the men must be higher ranking.

The men entered the small, smoke-filled room soon after this, each of them bowing before Inquisitor Saphentis before taking a seat.

"Gentlemen," began the Inquisitor. "My lady." he said. An equally twitchy young woman at the back nodded. "We have a situation aboard this ship."

The crowd looked at each other.

"As you know, we picked up a member of the Lictor genus five days ago at the Biologis institute. It escaped yesterday. I have already punished the men responsible."

The lights dimmed, and The Lictor's eyes dialated to adjust to the dark. It's scales rippled as they turned black. 

"The Lictor," Saphentis droned. "Is a vanguard-class predator, declared Xenos Horriblis by the Ordo Xenos over a thousand years ago. It was part of the Tyranid race until the Great Schism, where the Carnifex, Lictor, and Hormagaunt genus split from the main whole and began the civil war amongst the Hive Fleets. We now know of a single creature that appears to indicate sentience among the fleets, possible signs of more than just a weapon. You will instruct your fireteams to hurt it. Not kill it, or the Ordo Xenos will have more food for it's pens."

The assembled crowd was silent.

"Dismissed." said Saphentis.

The Lictor, unseen high in the rafters, slowly crawled back into the vent system, to it's makeshift home among the dark places of _Explorator_


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## angels of fire

An inter-tyranid cyvil war im liking this even more now....my moneys on the lictors :biggrin:


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## Dirge Eterna

Wow! I've been gone for some time, but here's the next part.
__________________________________________________________________

Sergeant Tobias Rableq had never fought Tyranids. His regiment, the 402nd Death Korps, had spent the last six years fighting Orks on Tranquility, a somewhat ironic name. His helmet sat heavily on his head, and he had unbuttoned his hot trenchcoat. The dark fabric caught on his autogun. He cursed. 

"Did you say something sir? I didn't quite catch that?" a trooper said over the comm.

Rableq sighed. The squad had lost five of it's men on Tranquility, and they had 5 FNG's. Frakking New Guys, as they said.

"Nothing."

He pushed his mask down onto his chest, the heavy metal skull set into it making him uncomfortable. His men looked around nervously, autoguns at the ready. A few had brought the torches from the _Explorator_'s rooms, as most of the power was currently in use by the Warp Engines and the Geller field, keeping the ship hurtling towards the Xenos research station _Tribunica_. Rableq felt around until his hand closed on his comm. 

"This is patrol DK402-2, Deck C port gundeck clear."

"Roger DK402-2, proceed to Deck C port barracks."

"Recieved and executing."

Rableq was just thinking how nice his leave on _Tribunica_ would be, when everything turned to hell.
________________________________________________________________________

The Lictor had watched the small procession move down the decks, past row upon row of massive ship-to-ship guns. It watched as the leader pulled a small device from his pockets and spoke into it.

"Recieved and executing."

The Lictor realized the man was walking directly towards it. The Lictor sprang, and landing directly in front of the squad. The men broke. Several took ill-aimed shots, pattering the area around the Lictor with fire. One shot bounced off it's chest armor, barely scratching the reinforced chitin. They all formed up into a firing line, and waved their weapons. One swung a torch at the Lictor, screaming.

"Back! Monster! Back! I warned ya!"

The Lictor pinched the torch head between it's fingers. A small hiss of dying smoke lifted from the black torch. The men looked at each other.

Their sergeant, a man in a long black coat with 402 stamped on his helmet, stood forward shakily. A fat Inquisitorial Mandate in his hand. 

"B-By order of the I-Inquisiton, y-you are under a-arrest for the charges of g-grand heresy, e-e-escaping from s-sanctioned captivity, a-and being a x-xenos, y-you are ordered t-to report t-to a secure h-holding cell....p-please?"

The last word was strained as the Lictor hung over him. 

The Lictor growled softly. It offered Rableq it's massive claws as he reached for a pair of manacles.


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## angels of fire

:laugh: that lictor scared the shit out of them more more more its getting good keep up the good work :biggrin:


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## vorbis

me likey long time


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## Dirge Eterna

The Lictor moved it's wrists. The manacle on it's left arm came loose. It made sure to cover this from it's guards. 

Saphentis was looking angry when the Lictor finally entered the bridge, accompanied by the Death Korps. 

"What the hell were you doing?"

The Lictor hissed.

"Not you! Rableq! Emperor be damned, man! Haven't I told you to vox in contacts!?"

Rableq wilted. A second trooper, a corporal, took up his fight.

"Yes sir, however the fight was over in minutes. We didn't have time."

Saphentis hit the man across the face with his unactivated power sword. The soldier yelped and fell back, rubbing the red spot across his face.

"I don't want excuses! I want results! Dilligence! Honor! Perseverance! What's that about the Death Korps?! You never retreat!? Well, RETREAT!"

He activated the sword. Rableq's squad broke, wide-eyed, and their sergeant simply snarled in comtempt and shoved the Lictor a few paces toward Saphentis.

The Lictor made sure to trip Rableq as he ran.

Saphentis sheathed the sword.

"Now, are you going to cooperate?"


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## Dirge Eterna

Is anyone reading this still? If so, POST!

______________________________________________

Saphetis had the vox-operator of Rableq's squad executed for dereliction of duty once they reached _Tribunica_. The man was weeping as the commissar led him away. Rableq himself had become so furious at the inquisitor he had his men find a pic-capture of him, and nailed it to the squad's dartboard in the barrack block. 

Stephen Valinov was Rableq's ASL (Assistant Squad Leader) and held the squad's grenade launcher in addition to the standard-issue Krieg autogun. Then there was Stalger, Dmitri, Skalen, Jiraov, and Turan. They each had a story, most of them pathetic. Valinov was a son of an armchair general, and loathed it, having joined the army at the age of sixteen after running away from home. Dmitri was a psychopathic pyrotechnician from the lower hives, and had been a Hellhound gunner for most of his career. Skalen was a sharpshooter, and painted a gruesome red line on his shoulder pad for each headshot he achieved. Jiraov's family was horrified to discover he had joined the Death Korps instead of the Administratum, like his pathetic excuse for a father, and disowned him. Turan, the new vox-operator, was an ex-menial from the manufactoria on Krieg, and had been thrown out by the cogboys after failing to bow before a senior Magos. Rableq himself had been a surly unerhiver when he was led away in a provost van after a gunfight in the lower hive. Two choices- rot away in a prison, or fight the Emperor's enemies. 

Ten years later, Rableq thought he had made the right choice. Finished with his musings, the sergeant tapped in the six-digit code into the door, opening it to find Turan, Skalen, and Valinov lounging around the bunks. Turan and Skalen were throwing a wicked knife at Saphentis' picture, while Valinov was polishing his grenade launcher, despite being able to see his reflection in the weapon already. Rableq was notoriously lax in disciplining his men, especially for a Krieg officer. So, in his infinite wisdom, the Lord General had chosen Rableq's squad upgraded to elite Grenadiers. Mostly to keep them from being underfoot around his subordinates, Rableq suspected. 

Rableq edged a data-slate of "artistic engravings" under a bunk. He might have been lax, but the Inquisitor was a hard-edged axe, even from Rableq's limited time spent with the man. Two weeks and he already hated Saphentis. 

As he noticed Valinov nod to him, Rableq felt a smile pull at his face.

Things would change.

Things would be made right.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

im reading, and i love it! you should write a book of 40k short stories.


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks for the comment OXC. I figured the story had no following whatsoever or it had a huge following and nobody was posting. Back to the story, I confess that after reading _Ciaphas Cain: Hero of the Imperium_, that I really needed a authoritative figure in the story....so, Grenadier Commissar Alexi Zhukov was born.

_________________________________________________________________________

Rableq was clad in the bare minimum of what might pass for a uniform, having changed out of the hot trenchcoat and gas mask of his Krieg uniform for a more basic barrack rec uniform.

Commissar Alexi Zhukov stepped down the ramp of the Valkyrie-pattern shuttle, his retinue of a few bored-looking Krieg troopers fanning out behind him. Two more squads of Grenadiers marched down the ramp after them, their autoguns and grenade launchers swinging left and right hungrily. 

"Commissar." said Rableq, barely bothering to salute. 

Zhukov grinned. "Captain."

"What?"

The commissar gestured at the Grenadiers behind him. "You've been recognized by high command on Krieg. The 13th Grenadier Rifles' 3rd Company was wiped out on Murder two weeks ago. You're now 2nd Platoon's CO."

Rableq rubbed the back of his neck. "That's....an honor. Sir."

Zhukov smiled behind the featureless skull adorning his mask. "You do it credit, Rableq, and there may be more in store."

The two Grenadier units moved up to shake hands with Rableq and Valinov, slinging their weapons.

"Master Sergeant Sven Chelkar, formerly 902nd Grenadier Rifles."

"Pleasure." said Rableq.

"Sergeant Major Adrian Stahlen, 902nd Grenadier Rifles."

Rableq nodded. The two men obviously knew each other, which would make it much easier for Rableq to organize a platoon. A third trooper stepped up to meet him, his Grenadier's uniform stained on the front and sleeves with something that looked rather like blood. An Apothecarium symbol was stamped on his helmet, and the armband he wore.

"PFC Josef Molotov, Combat Medicae, 902nd Grenadier Rifles." he said.

"Sergeant...er..Captain Tobias Rableq, and my second, Lieutenant Stephan Valinov."

The assembled men nodded greeting. 

"We'll get you set up in the barracks. Commissar?"

Zhukov held up his hands. "No, I'll be fine wherever you put me. I notice Commissars who make a point of things usually end up dying heroically for the Emperor, even if the enemy is a long way away at the time."

Rableq chuckled. "True as it ever was. Alright, then. Commissar, consider yourself attached to the 2nd Platoon command squad."


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## Saint Celestine

very nice i do like your work


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## Captain Micha

That's pretty cool. keep it up. I wanna see when the Lictor starts eating people!


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

nice, i like it alot. great story building


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## zboy234

Dirge you ARE AWESOME!!! great fluff and I agree with OXC you should write a book of 40k short stories


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks for the input guys. I do have a file cabinet drawer dedicated to all the stories I make up. I have another idea, but it'll wait until the next story.
_______________________________________________________________

ARRIVAL- _Tribunica_

The Lictor had spent two days behind shock bars and dilligent provosts, unable to escape for fear of Saphentis ordering it executed. During the time it had spent on _Tribunica_, the Lictor had been poked, prodded, and stabbed with instruments. Things had been attached to it, and it's head had been encased in sensor helmets. Tech-priests had come and gone, and Saphentis himself had been to visit several times.

On the other side of the ship, a second newcomer had Rableq enthralled. 

"Saphentis isn't sanctioned to do this." said Inquisitor Urkrathos, gesturing with a large digital needler. 

Rableq frowned. "Well, that's kind of hard to believe, sir. He's been getting astropathic relays from the Ordo Xenos.

The inquisitor pinched the bridge of his nose. Rableq and Valinov exchanged a glance. Zhukov was silent.

"The Ordo Xenos sent me because of the fact that Saphentis dropped off the face of the Imperium on his last assignment."

The facts were these, Rableq was told. 

Saphentis had been a young Inquisitor in the service of the Ordo Malleus six years before Rableq had met him on the Krieg Orbital Defense stations. He had a short, but illustrious career, and abruptly, vanished.

He had investigated the Slanneshi cult on Joravin Major, and had called back twice, first to say he had made planetfall, and the next was to say he had discovered a cult. The Malleus told him to retreat to the capitol, Grey Knights were only a few days behind him. The Grey Knights cleansed the cult, but Saphentis was never found. The Xenos took a personal interest in a new inquisitor wandering around with a sentient Tyranid, and had dispatched Urkrathos to investigate, and if possible, arrest Saphentis.

Rableq nodded. "We'll help you in any way we can."

__________________________________________________

POINT BLANK

The Lictor paced back and forth, drawing stares from the few remaining Stormtroopers enlisted with Saphentis' bodyguard. A demonhost writhed on the ground near him, bound in chains and staring with agonizing hatred at Saphentis, who simply gazed through the transparisteel at the Lictor.

The xenos stopped and looked directly at Saphentis, it's mouth drawing back in a snarl. It coughed loudly, and hawked a glob of phlegm at the window, which splattered right over Saphentis' face. The inquisitor cursed.

A Crusader next to him sniggered. Saphentis glared at him, making the venerable warrior shrink into his armor.

Twelve minutes after Saphentis and his retinue left, that Inquisitor Urkrathos and Captain Rableq's platoon broke into the containment cells.


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## angels of fire

yay more story:grin:


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## Dirge Eterna

FLASH POINT

Imperial Guardsman PFC Davis Thuilen was an uncomplicated individual.

He had been so enthralled by the tales of glory and honor he hadn't hesitated to join the Guard when the Commissars preached blood and fire on his homeworld. On his initial training sheet his IQ was marked down at 45. He had never succeeded at anything in his life. 

But the Guard had accepted him.

At this point, PFC Davis Thuilen was so entranced by his memories he was wholly unprepared for the massive Rending talons that eviscerated his body and left his head to roll on the deck, eyes rolling in shock.

The Lictor stepped smoothly from the vent, Rableq's curses following it. The man himself stepped into the light of _Tribunica's_ central gundecks, followed by a squad of Grenadiers. Stahlen winced. "Did you have to kill him?"

"He wouldn't have listened. He's an Emperor-bothering fanatic. Bit on the dumb side." Molotov replied.

The Lictor bent down to sniff at the remains. It's jaws opened, but one look at Stahlen's face and it straightened, it's fangs clamping back together. 

Zhukov was last out of the cramped vent, his mask hanging on a leather strap. The commissar sighed. 

"Why do you always have to pick the worst places to leave things?" he said, indicating the shorn body.

Rableq snorted. "We're with the big guy."

The Lictor sniffed in an impressive imitation of Rableq. Valinov chuckled. 

They continued down the causeway, growing closer to Saphentis' main section of rooms. The rogue inquisitor had requisitioned the use of several levels of the station, including the secretive Lighthouse Astropathic Relay. 

Rableq and his squad proceeded to the quarters, while the Lictor and Urkrathos slipped down the stairwell to the Lighthouse. The vast room was deserted. 

Urkrathos sighed. "Where's a spook when you need one?"

The Lictor made no reply. The inquisitor removed a medium-sized box from the equipment pouched Rableq's men had draped over the Lictor's expansive frame, helping them carry some of the larger pieces of equipment, including a meltagun, two demolition charges, and a fair supply of frag grenades. 

He removed a pack of letter, the Inquisitorial seal glaring from them, and a necklace bearing the stylized I, which he slung over his armored coller. At last the box was empty, save for a switch at the bottom. Urkrathos flicked it, and a keypad slid out of the box's interior. Urkrathos typed in the twenty-five digit code only himself, and very few others knew. A small key was ejected from the box's side. Urkrathos gripped it, as if it would run away. Approaching the humming and arcane console of the Lighthouse's main astropathic relay, he jabbed the key into a slot covered in warning runes and seals. The relay flashed red, and an I appeared on the screen.

"This is Inquisitor Birhan Urkrathos, calling from Deep Orbital Station zero-sero-four-eight. The rogue has been located. Cooperation with a Xenos sentient established. Primary mission objective complete."

"Inquisitor Urkrathos. Pleased to hear from you. We have your position. Stand by for reenforcement."

Urkrathos nodded. "Excellent. Tell the troops to rendevous at dock E-five."

The Lictor suddenly sank into a low crouch, pulling Urkrathos' figure to the floor. A second later, a ruby las-bolt detonated the precious key, and the relay sparked and hissed.

Saphentis stood on the gantry above them, a smoking laspistol was held in one gloved hand.

"Urkrathos, and your friend. You are, really, quite tiresome."


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

great work Dirge, keep it coming


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## Lord Sinkoran

nice story keep it up


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## Dirge Eterna

_Rocoulm_ exited the warp followed by a host of smaller battleships and destroyers. There was no telling what resources Saphentis had at his disposal. Fortunately for Urkrathos and the Lictor, they were entirely correct.

A second fleet was waiting behind the planet _Tribunica_ orbited. 

The bridge of the _Rocoulm_ was a scene of barely contained anarchy as ratings, tech-priests, and officers rushed back and forth. Captain Justinian Forris sat on the bridge's command chair taking in the whole picture.

"Sir! The flotilla's slowing to engagement speed!"

"Torpedo teams requesting firing solutions!" 

"_Spawn of Damnation_'s fighter squadrons ready for launch!"

"Fire control teams to stations! Gun decks ready broadside batteries!"

Forris nodded towards his gunnery officer. "Ready lance arrays, fighter teams from the _Spawn_ to attack the forward guns on the flagship. Fire control and damage teams to forward bow sections. Pull assault units back to dropships, prepare to board the station."

The young man nodded, and sent a filty rating to realy the orders.

Forris' chair rocked as the lances fired. Blue explosions echoed over the shields of the closest enemy as _Rocoulm's_ lance arrays found their marks. As the ships closed, more shot flew between them. Forris saw the ship that his weapons had hit blast apart, taking a destroyer and a smaller transport with it as _Angleica Mortis'_s Nova Cannon ripped straight through it to detonate in the space behind. 

Forris nodded. "Send my compliments to the gunnery crew of the _Mortis_."

The comms officer turned to speak into a vox-unit.

Sighing contently, Forris sank into the upholstrey of the command seat. This would be a good fight.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

great work buddy, the standard just keeps lifting


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## Dirge Eterna

FINEST HOUR

Urkrathos' face was instantly stern.

"Traitor. You will come with me to Mimas for questioning and summary execution."

Saphentis had a lunatic grin on his face. "No...no. I'm not going back. I _like_ it here!"

The Lictor looked between them. it's claws caught on the meltagun.

Saphentis leapt down from the gantry, his cloak flapping behind him. He kept the lapistol between himself and Urkrathos. 

"You know, I really didn't think I could trust that bumbling Krieg man. I hired my own private army. They're engaging your fleet out back. During my time I fought Chaos, Tyranids, Necrons, some of the worst horrors the galaxy has ever known. And here I am, about to kill another."

Urkrathos snarled. "You will try."

With that, the inquisitor drew a crackling power sword and charged Saphentis. The traitor had just enough time to draw his own sword before the two locked together. Urkrathos' sword glanced off Saphentis', and he smung around to put a sizeable dent in Saphentis' chest armor. Saphentis' return stroke took two fingers off Urkrathos' left hand. The inquisitor winced. This was all the opening Saphentis needed to pin him to the floor.

"You have lost, brother."

Urkathos growled. "I am NOT your brother traitor. And, you are outnumbered."

Urkrathos kicked Saphentis to land flat on his back, his weapons gone.

"By the power vested in me," Urkrathos began. "By the power of His most Holy Inquisition, the Ordo Hereticus, I pronounce you dead in the eyes of the Emperor. May he have mercy on your soul, for we will not."

Saphentis laughed. "What?"

Urkrathos simply chuckled. "Kill him."

It was at that moment Saphentis noticed The Lictor had managed to move closer to him, the melta held in two claws.

Rogue Inquisitor Mikal Saphentis died as superheated air melted the flesh from his bones.

The Lictor lowered the melta, it's face unreadable. Four yellow eyes followed Urkrathos as he carefully put the remains of the key into the box. He handed the case the the Lictor, who put it in the equipment pouches. 

Rableq's platoon broke into the room with a clang as the door collapsed. Valinov was first in, dropping the pneumatic ram in favor of his lasrifle. "Clear!" 

Rableq and his command team moved towards Urkrathos, sidestepping the steaming pile of offal that was Saphentis.

"So," asked the captain. "What now?"


----------



## angels of fire

hmmm what to do now?


----------



## Dirge Eterna

RECKONING

Forris stamped out the smoldering tip of a bac-stick. 

"Yea, lads! Send these traitors off!"

His gunnery officer grinned. "Sir, firing solution plotted. Two volleys into the closest capital ship!"

Forris gestured with the bottle of Juruvian Second Best, a foul yet highly effective spirit he could no longer sleep without. "Give me three volleys and I'll give you a bottle older than I am!"

His gunnery officer smiled broadly. "Yessir!"

A shot struck _Rocoulm_ between the gundecks and bridge, throwing servitors and the less sure-footed officers to the ground. Forris was solid in his command chiar, which rocked lightly. 

"A good fight!" yelled Forris over the din of the sirens.

_Rocoulm_ rocked again as four shots fired from each broadside gun. Forris' gunnery officer turned around. 

"Four and a half volleys, captain."

Forris pulled a dusty bottle from the footlocker beside his chair. The officer took it hastily, as if Forris would change his mind.

"Sir! Recieving unknown contact, vector two-zero-eight, shuttle class!"

[Shipmaster Forris, this is Inquisitor Birhan Urkrathos and retinue, requesting immediate landing clearance.]

Urkrathos replied. "Urkrathos?! What are you doing on that ship!?"

[Captain. Finishing this fight.]


----------



## chrisman 007

Loving it! But the thing we must ask is... what happens next?


----------



## Dirge Eterna

Forris was noticeably shaken when the Lictor arrived with Urkrathos and Rableq's men. The old captain pulled a naval shotgun from his chair before realizing Urkrathos was in front of it, an obvious sign it wasn't a threat.

"Inquisitor," said Urkrathos, staring at the Lictor. "We're almost done here, just a few more ships before they're destroyed...unless they break first."

Urkrathos smiled. "Excellent. When we're done, set a course for the Ordo Xenos bastion on Serenity."

The Lictor heard the words drop from Urkrathos' mouth. It stepped behind Rableq's men, and then quietly punched in the code to open the vents. 

The xenos pulled itself into the vents, confident Urkrathos and his flunkies would never discover a few of the darker corners of _Rocoulm_. 

______________________________________________________

SHATTERPOINT

"Sir! Multiple unknown contacts, bearing nine-two-five, intercept patterns!"

"Torpedo lock, captain! Evasive maneuvers!"

"Ordnance incoming! Chaff and Flare!"

Forris was staring in disbelief at the hololith as six new contacts erupted from the Warp, firing torpedos and close-in broadsides at the loyalists and heretics alike. 

"Match confirmed! Leading ship ID'd as _Aay'han_!"

A swarm of smaller craft suddenly flew from the second ship, a Murder-class crusier.

"Boarding craft! Close-in defenses respond!"

A single voice cut in over the chatter of voices clogging the vox.

[_Rocoulm_, this is Reclaimed battlecruiser _Aay'han_. Stand down and prepare Xenos-class Lictor for transport. Defy and be destroyed.]

Forris looked at Urkrathos, who shook his head slowly. 

"Damned traitors! We'll kill every last one of you!"

[Very well. Stand to to recieve boarders, _Rocoulm_]

A thud echoed through he ship. Followed by another, and another. Six more echoed down the hallways of the ship as Forris and Urkrathos desperately organized armsmen and naval provosts to their stations.

The first figure to step from the scorched boarding torpedo and into _Rocoulm_ was Apothecary Lukas Altair.


----------



## angels of fire

nice interlinking of the storys now all we need is a shadowstorm somewhere along the line:biggrin:


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## Djinn24

Very Awesome! Please sir can we have some more!


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks for all the feedback guys.

_________________________________________

Altair looked around the devastated remains of _Rocoulm_'s airlock hallway. He pulled his thunder hammer, the God-Splitter, from it's sheath on his back. Behind him was Kale, the Kytharin's storm bolter kciking in one mailed fist. Justinian, Sirius, Dvorn, and Mkael stomped out of the boaring craft behind him, cradling bolters and meltas.

A overdressed naval provost rose up with a shotgun pointed at Altair's helmet. He drew up the bolter with a prenatural speed and put a single perfect round throught the man's head. It embedded itself in the next provost and detonated the man's chest. Sirius pointed the meltagun down the hall and pulled the trigger. Men screamed, and were instantly cut off. When Altair's visor cleared, he saw a melted, distended hallway, full of steaming bodies and melted wargear. Shrrgnien (Which Altair found impossible to pronounce) stomped down the hallway from the second boarding craft, a hissing vox-unit in one hand.

"Brother-Apothecary, I have captured a live feed to the command vox-net. I'll patch it into your HUD."

A second later a confused tangle of voices exploded into the helmet speakers. Most were screaming. A few were gibberish. One voice came from the bridge.

[This is Captain Forris! All naval units move to the port side, engage hostiles. No mercy!]

Altair heard a breaching charge go off over the vox and a few screams. Something wet and heavy hit the vox with a sickening _thud_. A few seconds later the vox-unit shut down and a feed came in.

[Apothecary, team seven has captured the bridge, interrogating high-ranking officials now.]

Altair put his hand on Shrrgnien's shoulder, and took his place in the front of the line. he stomped past dying provosts, Guardsmen, and a few naval ratings and crew. 

Altair wondered why the guns had stopped. This area was supposed to be an enemy stronghold.

He stepped into the next room, and gagged immediately.

The room was an scene of gory dismemberment, ripped apart limbs and torn flesh littered the floor, while gore dripped from the ceiling. A single foot flopped down from a fleshy stalagtite, landing with a wet _plop_ next to Altair's boot. A finger fell onto his visor. Dvorn scrabbled at the clasps to his helmet, tossed it away, and threw up. 

It was impossible to tell how many people there had been originally, the only remnants not totally mashed apart were cloven weapons and ripped clothes.

Sirius moved up with the meltagun and vaporised the majority of the room, flesh and bone instantly turning to vapor. Altair raised a shaky hand, and moved out of the horrible room.

Closer now to the bridge, Altair and his team regained some composure after finding the massacre, and they began to make serious headway into enemy postions. A charge from the rear of the ship broke against two Devastator squads Altair had brought with him, and had been eviscerated as they attempted to sweep away the Space Marines. 

______________________________________________________

"Where is the traitor?!"

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Lies! Where is he?!"

Forris was manacled to a stout iron chair, his large form filling the small chair up. A dark black Space Marine with a horrifying skull-faced helmet had spent the last two hours asking him the same question. Forris was tired, hungry, cold, and nearly hysterical with fear. The last thing he remembered was the doors to the bridge exploding and huge shapes hurtling across the room and a figure in power armor pinning him to the deck.


----------



## Steel Rain

I need more, Dirge. Gimme my fix. TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS!!!


----------



## Dirge Eterna

[All units, retreat pattern zero-seven, xenos retrieved. Fall back to boarding craft.]

[I'm staying. Got some business to attend to with Urkrathos.]

[Altair?]

[Aye. I'll meet up with you back at the ship. You are on your own!]

[You are on your own, brother-Apothecary.]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Altair stood quietly in Urkrathos' study. The inquisitor paced in front of him.

"Why, renegade? Why risk it all for a single xenos?"

Altair chuckled behind the grill of his helmet. "You tell me, inquisitor."

Urkrathos smiled without humor. "Indeed. Amasec?" 

Altair nodded. "Yes, that'd be lovely."

The inquisitor pulled a glass decanter and two small glasses from a cabinet. Altair watched as he filled them up, then relieved him of both.

"So," said the marine, "I lead your fleet to Kytharia, you let me go?"

"Exactly." said Urkrathos.

The inquisitor turend away to refill a third glass. Altair examined a regicide board Urkrathos had. He noticed with glee the inquistor had the Emperor sculpted as himself. Altair picked it up and put it in one of his pouches. Urkrathos turned. 

"You're a dying breed, Lukas, more and more pirate fleets such as yours are becoming extinct...faster than they can be replaced. The galaxy is growing smaller, simply. You must adapt, or die."

Altair put on the white Mark IV helmet he had affected ever since Tranquility.

A shot from _Aay'han_ struck Urkrathos' study, blasting the delicate framework to pieces and shredding priceless tapestries before the shields sealed the breach.

"Not a chance!" Altair yelled, and sprinted for the gundeck.

Reaching it several seconds before Urkrathos and his men, Altair repositioned the gun so the spent shells would fly into space, toward _Aay'han_. He attached a chain to the shell.

Altair placed the Urkrathos figurine he stole from the regicide board in the muzzle of the gun.

Urkrathos and six men rounded the corner. Urkrathos stared at Altair.

"You're insane!" The inquisitor proclaimed.

"Good thing too. If I wasn't this'd probably never work!" Altair replied, and fired the gun.

The heavy las round obliterated the small Emperor piece, and put a hole six feet wide in the ship. The shields once again sealed the breach before anyone could be sucked out. Altair himself flew out of the ship, propelled by the spent shell. 

The Apothecary snickered as _Aay'han_'s artificial gravity smacked the shell and his body to the decks. Arbalan strode up to him, the Dreadnought's footfalls shaking loose bolts from the ceiling.

"Some things never change, do they, Altair?"


----------



## CATzeentch

huh, I wonder where that line came from?

Very good none the less.


----------



## Steel Rain

Isn't that from Halo 3?


----------



## Dirge Eterna

POTC 3, Jack Sparrow and Cutler Beckett, for those who didn't catch that. More tomorrow!

-Dirge
___________________________________________________________


----------



## CATzeentch

I was being a bit sarcastic, but I absolutely love the story, but i need more of that lictor...PLEASE.(Its like an addictive drug)


----------



## Djinn24

Yes i want to know what happened to the bug please. Still a very good story! Keep it up.


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## Dirge Eterna

Worry not, I hvae plenty of plans for the Lictor. Truely the bit about Altair was only intended to draw out anyone who was reading this, lol. The Lictor will be back today, probably around noon. I have a clan war for Call of Duty 4 to attend to.

EDIT: My buddy just called, we're going to GW for the day. So, no more today. Tomorrow for sure. :sarcastichand:

Hahaahahaa! I already know how the story ends! See you tomorrow!

-Dirge


----------



## Dirge Eterna

OK, on with the tale.

------------------------------------------------------

Urkrathos was wounded. He was bleeding. His retinue was lying in pools of blood or staring at missing limbs around him.

That maniac Space Marine and his band of renegades had just taken the last hope for most of the last Segmentum, the Solar.

--------------------------------------------------

Altair stepped past a black-armored Deathwatch renegade as he made his way to the chambers where Chaplain Vrael had kept the captain of the ship his marines had boarded. The fat man was manacled to a steel chair bolted to the floor of _Aay'han_'s brig. Vrael was lazily propped up in a corner, his Crozius Arcanum swinging in front of the man, it's tip touching his leg with a _hiss_ of burning flesh every now and then. 

"Enough." said Altair. The fat man looked up at him like he was the Emperor himself. Vrael slung the Crozius. The man's eye fluttered and he let out a hacking cough. Vrael hadn't fed him or let him sleep for a few days now. 

"Where is Inquisitor Mikal Saphentis?" asked Altair, removing his helmet.

"D-D-Dead...the xenos..and..uh...Urkrathos..kill...him."

The Lictor stepped around Altair's armored form. Forris immediatly reacted.

"Whu-whu...xenos! Heretics!" sputtered the captain, and promptly fainted dead away.

Altair put his hand on Vrael's shoulder. "We're too late, brother. The wyrm has flown. Call the fleets, we resupply at Ryza, then move to Thassocles."

Vrael nodded. "It will be done, Brother-Apothecary."

The Chaplain picked up his grim helmet and left Altair with the Lictor. 

"So," said Altair. "Tell me everything."

And the Lictor replied.


----------



## zboy234

dude this story is awesome, great work keep it up mate! 

P.S I wish my fluf was as good as this:biggrin: lol


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## Culler

Very good for fan fiction. You may want to read what you write before you post it though, there's been a number of editing errors (such as the 2nd inquisitor addressing himself over the vox)


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## Master Andael

Please write more!
it is really good:


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## casanova

interesting i like it very much


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## Dirge Eterna

Culler said:


> Very good for fan fiction. You may want to read what you write before you post it though, there's been a number of editing errors (such as the 2nd inquisitor addressing himself over the vox)


Thank you. And I will. In my defense I have been either A: Exhausted, or B: High on Pop and Zours. I'll check my coming posts.

More today, thinking of an ending within a week or two.
-Dirge


----------



## Ordo Xeno Commander

great story, shame its going to end haha. ohh and would you mind reading mine "Fight for Titirus 7", you'll see it in fluff. cheers


----------



## Dirge Eterna

The Lictor spoke not with words, but with images. 

Altair saw the body of Saphentis, smoldering on _Tribunica_. He saw Urkrathos decieve the entire fleet he had summoned. He saw the epic battle over the station, ending with _Rocoulm_ being boarded and severly damaged by the Reclaimed. 

The Lictor finished with a complex hand symbol Altair recognized as the same type his Marines used without their helmet comlinks. 

_Enemies ahead, many._

Altair nodded. Vrael rushed back into the room, his robes flowing behind him.

"Brother, the fleet is summoned. They wait for us at Thassocles!"

Altair noticed Vrael. "Excellent. Give our friend here a room and some fresh food."

Vrael began to move toward Forris, but Altair nodded toward the Lictor. Vrael nodded and led the Lictor out of the room.

-------------------------------------------------

Six hours later by Warp Jump, _Aay'han_ met up with the main Reclaimed fleet. Altair sped over to _Cult of Delieverace_ by utility shuttle, the vast War Barge's hangers (capable of docking _Aay'han_ itself) swallowing up his tiny vessel. Altair made a quick stop at the refresment table, picking up the entire pot of recaf and slowly sipping it while he sat down. The other pirate captains were already there, in addition to Lord Balthur, master of the Reclaimed and lord over _Cult of Delieverance_.

The other captains were in regs or carapace armor, as was custom at the meetings. They all stared at Altair as he sat down in the stone chair at the end of the table, opposite to Balthur. Damien, the captain of _Ven'couyt_, the ship Altair was most familiar with besides his own, nodded in greeting. He too was wearing a suit of Power Armor. No sense in being unprepared, thought Altair.

Balthur chuckled heartily. "Anything else?"

Altair gestured with the pot of recaf. "I could use a refill."

Balthur nodded and sent the most disapproving-looking of the assembled captains to fetch a second pot. A gleam of mischief shone in the old Space Marine's eye, and Altair decided he liked the Lord Commander.

Once Altair had recovered the pot from the flunky captain, Blathur rose and a hololith exploded into being from a projecter set in the table.

"Gentlemen," began Balthur. "Thassocles is the site of the greatest threat to Man in over six generations. To be simple, it is the site of a Summoning. Demons will congregate here, along with representatives from every traitor legion. Inquisitor Urkrathos, perpetrator of the _Tribunica_'s destruction, will be representing the cultist factions of the Segmentum Solar. We must not allow them to summon their foul brethren."

Balthur breathed.

"The Long War is ending, my friends. For over twenty thousand years it has waged, and now, they are coming. Here. We have six days to prepare and summon reenforcements from renegade factions and pirate fleets. Kytharia itself has agreed to send elite Sturmserpent units to aid us, but they will arrive on the second day of the battle."

The captains didn't move. Balthur drew a huge power sword and placed it point-down on the table. Each of the captains did the same, drawing power swords and thunder hammers. Altair placed the God-Splitter on the table.

"For The Reclaimed, By The Reclaimed, You are on Your Own." they chorused. Balthur began to place the ships in postion, and gave out orders. Altair rushed back to the shuttle.

The fate of the Imperium would be decided here, now.


----------



## Steel Rain

You may now return from the edge of your seats.


----------



## Dirge Eterna

Is that a comment? I think it is, but my gf second-guessed me on it. lol.

-Dirge


----------



## Steel Rain

Of course it's a comment. Your short story keeps me on the edge of my seat


----------



## Culler

Haha, I like where this story is going.


----------



## Dirge Eterna

I think it's past "short story" by now, lolz. Approaching "Text" or "Article"

Update by tomorrow!
-Dirge


----------



## Steel Rain

I've read Crime and Punishment for fun, Dirge. Your story is short.


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## Dirge Eterna

I've never read "Crime and Punishment" but I know what you mean. A wall of my room is devoted to books, mostly fiction, but "War and Peace" found itself there after I got into Russian literature.

-Dirge


----------



## Dirge Eterna

A prefab bunker smashed into the pavement and dirt of the outskirts of Aberon, the only city ever built on Thassocles, and shortly thereafter, destroyed.

Small arms unfolded from the plasteel structure, digging in to the ground and firmly anchoring the bunker to the soil of the planet. Marines to the left and right waited for it to cool and then began to dig trenchs around the newly-landed emplacement. Two marines carting a heavy autocannon ran inside, and hooked up the weapon to a box of ammunition placed inside by _Cult of Delieverance_'s crew. Everything that came down from the ship carried either men, armor, or supplies for the undoubtably bloody battle ahead. 

One such bullet contained Lukas Altair, the Lictor, Damien, and the majority of Altair's mixed squad from Threshold. Sirius' bionic arm glowed dully in the orange lights from the drop-pod. Dvorn was strapped in next to him, grinning behind his visor. Jaeknos was compulsively checking and rechecking his meltagun. Fredric grinned broadly, his helmet hooked to a fat black belt tight around his grey-blue power armor. 

"Altair. Good you made it, laddie. I've been without a sparring partner for far too long!"

Altair chuckled. "That's because you bruise everyone from head to toe with your monster sword."

He indicated the tremendous power sword, nearly as tall as he was, secured tightly to Fredric's back.

Fredric nodded. "Except you."

Altair returned the nod, indicating his hammer. "Because I'm not a pale Ork like you, I would warrent."

Fredric chuckled merrily past his black-on-grey beard. "Indeed, Apothecary."

And with that, the pod struck the ground.

Altair and his new accomplice spent the next few hours helping with the defense preperations, digging trenches (The Lictor was surprisingly adept at digging, Altair learned), placing weapons, and generally helping out as best they could. They stopped to recover a stock of bolter ammunition that had fallen short of the drop zone, taking a Rhino to cart all the shells back to the staging area. 

Later that night, the Kytharin fleet arrived in high orbit over the planet. An advance party, they said. Altair welcomed fifty Sturmserpent troopers to the defense, and the Astropaths on board the Reclaimed cruisers told them more and more soldiers and even more pirate captains and vessels were to arrive within the week. Altair allowed himself a small moment of optimism, in replacement of his normal realistic self. Unlike Sirius or Dvorn, who relentless cheerfulness contrasted beautifully with Jaeknos' self-proclaimed pessimistic and scheming nature, Altair thought of himself as a realist. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vrael was busy with a bundle of purity seals when Altair and the Lictor walked into his prefab hab-unit.

"Yes?" said the old Chaplain.

Altair nodded at the Purity seals. "Are they ready?"

The chaplain gazed fondly at the seals. Each was handwritten and held whole chapters of the Tome Imperator, the holiest of the Imperium's remaining texts. Fabulous murals and scenes from legend were drawn in magnificent colors. The Emperor's own seal was stamped on the wax heads.

Vrael placed them carefully in a felt box, and gave them to Altair. "The rites have been spoken. They are ready."

Altair placed the box next to his reductor, the safest place on his belt. 

The Lictor sniffed the air, yellow eyes following the marines outside.

It nudged Altair, and pointed at an orbital lander dropping to the ground.

A runner in the livery of the Raven Guard yelled "The Kytharin are here! The reenforcements are here!"

Vrael looked pleased. "It seems the Warp currents were favorable."

Altair looked less happy. "Or something very big disturbed them."


----------



## Dirge Eterna

The Lictor's jaws distended around the chunk of grox. It finally fit the last into it's maw and closed it's jaws, snapping the bone with a loud _crack_.

Altair was eating something unidentifiable out of a food pack when Fredric and Sirius walked in, also carrying food packs.

Fredric sat opposite to Altair, pulling a food pack from his plate. "Bah! They expect a great warrior like myself to subsist only on grey blobs of once-food?" 

He picked at the food pack none the less, grumbling about the flavor and color.

Sirius' relentless cheerfullness once again saved him from a rant about the quality of the food when he replied "Well, it could be worse. They could forget to feed you at all! Emperor knows you eat enough as is."

Fredric threw a fork at the marine, the utensil pinging off his armor and landing further down the table. "This is no food for a mighty warrior! I require real food!"

The former Space Wolf pushed his tray away. The Lictor bent over and sniffed the packs, still chewing the grox.

It swallowed noticably and hawked a drool-covered bone onto the table's previously clean surface. It's jaws cracked back into place and it snapped up the food packs off of Fredric's tray. 

Sirius glanced up from his auspex. "We're getting weird readings from orbit. They're saying that a huge Warp signature was found a half-hour ago, but nothing matching a ship we know of, or a fleet. It was _one_ object."

"Could be a hulk." said Fredric, "They drift around here from time to time."

"Possibly." said Altair. "Or it could be a trap. Get the fleet to set up a blockade around the defenses. Make sure they have all their weapons armed at _all times_."

Sirius nodded and turned back to the auspex. 

Fredric checked his bolter nervously. "I fear there's more here than we know, laddie."

Altair placed his hand on Fredric's shoulder reassuringly. "There always is, my comrade. There always is."


----------



## Dirge Eterna

**120 years previously**

Altair stepped lightly into the room. His carapace armor tinted red by the blood dripping from the ceiling. A shockwave rocked the stones in the walls, and dust fell from the rafters. A circle of gore was painted on the floor, with arrows spiralling out of the center. _Chaos_. The air was thick with it's taint. 

His squad was dead. Faustos, gunned down by bolters. Reiko, torn apart by demons. Desmond, turned to ash by foul magics. And his last comrade, Orelius. bound to the pole rising from the center of the circle, bleeding from the empty holes where his eyes were. 

A sorcerer (the same he killed on Threshold, he later realized) rose from a black pit in the floor, and slit the young marine's throat. A fountain of multicolored gore suddenly hung in midair. It swirled and formed a writhing shape, wings burst from it's back, and horns grew from it's head. A mirrored metal helm sat between the horns, and mirrored armor grew out of it's chest. A massive black sword was held in one clawed hand, while four burning green eyes looked Altair up and down.

"Young one. Lift up your soul to mighty Tzeentch. Give to him and ye shall recieve one thing of your desire."

Altair pulled his bolter and fired. The shots pinged off the demon's armor, leaving no trace.

"Very. Very foolish, my father. I will have your souls, all your souls. When you lead the pirates to fight my brethren, I will claim your soul, for you are my creator and primogenitor."

Altair looked in stunned silence at the demon, until it rammed the black blade straight through his thin Scout armor, sending him to his knees in pain. The sorcerer disappeared in a blaze of multicolored fire, and the world turned black.

An hour later, a second search party found his body. Nursed him back to health. He became an Apothecary, after his mentor, Illirea the Healer.

________________________________________________________________

**present**

Altair affixed the seals given to him by Vrael to his armor. There would be no victory for the demon and his ilk.


----------



## Steel Rain

Oh that's hard core.


----------



## Ordo Xeno Commander

gah, it just keeps getting better! stop it or us other writers will never reach your quality :biggrin:


----------



## Vitaeus

Wow. That is some deep stuff. Makes people like me wish that they weren't people like me. -_-


----------



## Dirge Eterna

Thanks. I thought I'd let that seep in for a day. More tomorrow. 

-Dirge


----------



## Dirge Eterna

I've decided I can't wait. I have the ending (and the beginning of the third Altair story) all planned out.

Here we go!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bolter shells whipped past Altair's head, blasting craters in Marine and xenos alike. The Lictor returned fire, a heavy bolter held in two clawed hands. Thousand Sons, their armor burning and rent with holes, spilled through the breach in the walls. A marine in the livery of the Howling Griffons threw a melta bomb into the mass, vaporising a good portion.

"Altair! We cannot hold them!" screamed Dvorn from the next trench. He was right, thought Altair. The Thousand Sons were too many. A screeching sorcerer stabbed a hellblade at him. He parried and crushed his head with the God-Splitter. A second marine jabbed a bayonet at him. He met his end under Altair's combat knife, the monomolecular edge slicing through the joint of his neck.

For eight days the Thousand Sons had attacked, and for eight days the Reclaimed had driven them from the planet. Massive silver towers had been constructed around a pit dug in the crust of Thassocles, as much as the Reclaimed had done to destroy them, there were simply too many, and they were too few. The Kytharin warfleet had routed the Chaos fleets, but the Warp Portals were now open, and hundreds of thousands of vile traitors spilled onto the planet, engaging the Reclaimed in an all-out assault on Aberon. 

A floating disc gently set down a dozen feet to Altair's right. A terminator-armored sorcerer stepping off to blast a Space Marine off his feet. The heretic pointed a single finger at Altair, with all the authority of fate itself.

"Yessss....you are the one. The one Azulanthissss wantsss. You will come...or he will take you...yesss. Take you to Deimossss...to Tzeentch himself!"

Altair reched as the sorcerer vomited forth a stinking cloud of multicolored fury, tearing through his marines. A las shot blasted the upper body of the traitor into vapor, and the same Marine who saved him on Threshold saluted him from the balcony, cradling a Lascannon. Altair nodded his thanks, and charged from the trench, sixteen marines behind him. Twenty Thousand Sons left in the wave. Easy.

The first two were pulped under massed bolter fire, thier armor tearing open and shrieking souls flying into the darkening sky. The third caught a Heavy Bolter round through his visor, blowing his head off. The sorcerer at the front raised a thin sword, easily broken by Altair's thunder hammer, shortly followed by the man's head. A Thousand Son shot a marine point-blank, the Inferno Bolt immolating his body. Fredric stabbed two traitors with his massive sword, firing a pistol into a third. Sirius beheaded a staggering Chaos marine, and Jaeknos fired his melta into the rest, instantly killing them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Lictor moved next to Altair, it's heavy bolter out of ammunition behind them. It's yellow eyes surveyed the damage done by the attacks. A row of Thunderhawk and Longsword gunships ferried the wounded and dead to _Cult of Delieverance_, but there were only so many Reclaimed. A supply drop crashed down, disgorging ammo crates and food packs. Two drop-pods followed it, ten Marines crashing down their ramps to form up into a twenty-man team and rush toward the trenches. Thousand Sons were everywhere, their smoking bodies pouring out dust onto the ground. Altair's techmarines had told him their casualties were almost 1:12, ridiculously high, even by Altair's strict standards. His men were doing very well, by all means they SHOULD have won by now.

Only they hadn't.

The Thousand Sons kept coming, despite massive casualties, almost without number. Altair had tried to guess the numbers of dead on both sides so far, and it had scared him. The Thousand Sons were obviously a much larger force. They could take casualties. The Reclaimed could not.

Altair motioned for Fredric and Lucian to join him at the map table. He began to plan their last stand.


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## Steel Rain

I'm going to guess that there is about 1000 Thousand Sons.


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## Dirge Eterna

Actually there are 10,000 in the Legion, and more Tzeentchian marines have joined during the Long War, so more like 15,000-20,000

-Dirge


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## Culler

Good stuff as usual k:

The thought of a lictor with a heavy bolter makes me giggle :biggrin:


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## Dirge Eterna

It's like Bragg with extra limbs. lolz.

-Dirge


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## Steel Rain

That bad of a shot, huh?


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## CATzeentch

An awesome story throughout. I still wished that you could have written about the lictor owning some 1ksons in the face.


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## inqusitor_me

man that rocked


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## Dirge Eterna

It's not over, folks. The real ending is much more tragic and really, really awesome. The Lictor is actually very important, you'll see why at the end.

-Dirge


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## Dirge Eterna

Inscription on the walls of the Temple at Deimos:

_And the Last Prophet, the Sentient, the Nemisis, The Traitor, and the Changed will all have their parts to play, for the strands of fate curl around the Great Summoning. Even as the sons of Red Magnus march on their once-brothers, the Covenant of Deimos moves to make the Last Prophet the being to challenge Chaos itself. Change, Plague, Blood, and Excess will each oppose him, yet he will know no fear. The very powers that gave him strength will make his crusade to the Amber world the greatest journey we have ever known, for each of the faces must play their part, for Chaos._

Serious foreshadowing going on here, folks. See if you can decode it, but DON'T SAY ANYTHING!
-Dirge


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## angels of fire

Any plans of modeling the lictor with heavy bolter? by the way can't wait for the ending


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## Dirge Eterna

I have an Altair model, and I'm doing an Altair post-story 

(big hint here, he survives, but not in the way you will expect.)
 and I have a Lictor that I made after the story, but I'm trying to get ahold of an IG issue Heavy Bolter (the Heavy Weapons Team one, noe weird box feed.)

-Dirge


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## Dirge Eterna

2 posts till' the end. Not counting this one.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Altair swung the God-Splitter at the demon, it's face contorting in pain a second before it exploded into a thousand gory strands. A Thousand Son reared up behind the fallen creature, waving a glowing blade. The Lictor swung a massive claw into his visor, impaling his head. The marine's gun hand twitched and a flurry of bolter shells detonated the ground around his feet. Reclaimed were fighting Thousand Sons all around the two, multicolored marines slashing and stabbing at the blue-on-gold Thousand Sons. The rockrete under Altair's boots began to tremble as a Land Raider blasted a great hole in the walls. The ramp dropped, revealing the inside to be a glistening wet maw instead of the ceramite armor he was used too. A squad of marines tramped down it, their armor sticky and moist with the tank's demonic insides. 

A las-bolt from a Soul Drinkers predator detonated the Raider, consuming it's passengers in promethium fire. The continued on, heedless, until their armor melted and they died. The Lictor reached and ripped the head from a screeching Thousand Son, his empty armor clanging to the ground. Altair smashed a second. Fredric slashed through the squad leader, and suddenly they were alone.

They weren't the only ones. The rest of the Reclaimed were looking around in startled amazement as their opponents had simply disappeared. Smoking bodies and burning tanks remained, but every living Thousand Son had vanished into thin air.

Fredric's face was a maze of confusion and bewilderment as he stared at the now-vacant ground before them. "What happened there, laddie? Sorcery?"

Altair was equally confused. "I'm not sure. Possibly. We'd have to consult with Marius."

Marius the Cursed was the only Reclaimed psyker. He was encased in an ancient suit of power armor, dating to the Horus Heresy. So old that his armor now kept him alive, the old marine's crackling lightning claws shone dully in the temple.

"So, young Apothecary, they simply...vanished?"

"Yes." said Altair, doing his best to describe the events.

"Well, I found a major anamoly in the Warp just as you witnessed this...my opinion is that Magnus, or a demon with his cabal, decided the losses suffered were too many, and retreated."

"Do we know who?" asked Altair.

Marius gave him an ill look. "Yes, but you may not like the answer."

Altair shrugged. "As the Emperor wills."

Marius moved to an ancient piece of wood inscribed with all the characters in High Gothic. He picked up ten bones and spoke two words so deep they escaped Altair, and threw the bones. They glowed with green fire as they stuck to the wood.

A-Z-U-L-A-N-T-H-I-S

Altair stared in shock. The demon who had nearly killed him over a century before was now the one who had saved them all.

Marius released the bones. "I sense you have fought this demon before."

"Yes...once before. On Tranquility, just before I became an Apothecary. He said I was his father."

It was Marius' turn to be shocked. "Grave care you must take, young Apothecary, when dealing with Demons, lest they steal your soul. Guard yourself well."

Altair nodded. "You are on your own, my friend."

Marius' psychic hood slid over his face, leaving two featureless green eyes staring at Altair.

"You are on your own, Altair."


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## Dirge Eterna

Wow. Just noticed I had 1,012 views. Woo hoo! 
1 post till' the end!
-----------------------------------------------------------
Altair and The Lictor finished checking the walls for any more breaches. They had visited the dying and the wounded, and even had spoken to all the squad and brood leaders. They visited the map room last, where Fredric and Gregory were waiting. 

Gregory motioned for him to sit, his Champion's armor glinting in the dim light. Fredric pointed to a green icon on the map, distressingly far away.

"This is the main bulk of the Kytharin war-fleet. They will reach us by tonight if the warp currents hold stable," he pointed to a red icon. "and this, is the Thousand Sons army, retreating." 

Altair raised an eyebrow. "Retreating?"

Fredric nodded. "Aye, laddie. Retreating. We think we finally broke them. An assassin team sent by Almulin eliminated all the targets we were supposed to this morning. Urkrathos' body lies dead in the fields surrounding the Warp Portal.

"Then our task is done."

"Not quite."

A horn sounded in the distance, long and sonorous.

Fredric suddenly looked concerned.

"That is niether a traitor or Kytharin horn."


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## Culler

k:

The business with the runes spelling out the demons name was pretty neat, I may have to steal that for one of my tabletop games (RPG).


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

god it just keeps getting better!! blarg!!(dont ask)


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks all! To Culler, I actually twisted the idea from _Eragon_, he has his fortune told using slightly similar techniques.

THE END!!!!!!
-----------------------------------------------------------------

The Lictor was bound, tied to a post anchored to the room. It twisted one way, then the next.

No avail.

Altair's eyes opened. He tried to move, but couldn't.

A horned helmet stared at him. His vision blurred as the cut on his forehead bled into his eyes. Two days. They took the fortress in two days. His men, slaughtered. His ships, left for orbit. A cruel mockery of the fate they had avoided when the Imperium betrayed them to die.

The helmet moved. Altair looked at it in confusion. The armored warrior grabbed Altair's hand, stripped of his power armor, and placed it on it's chest so Altair could feel it speaking.

_Prophet, Primogenitor, you will accompany me to Deimos. Train with Xyphos and the others. Become what you should have been....what you escaped._

Altair's eyes widened as he realized Azulanthis itself stood before him, it's mirrored armor making it seem much bigger than it was. Two burning green eyes surveyed him from the slit cut into it's helm.

His hearing returned gradually.

"So, you can see this was unavoidable, my father."

"I am NOT your father, creature."

Azulanthis snickered. "Ah, but you are. Every feeling. Every hate. All your malace and grudges poured into mighty Tzeentch, and I came into being on his whim."

Altair slumped down again. The Lictor's flesh hooks started to saw at the black sinew that bound it.

Altair tried to keep the demon talking. "Why? Why us, why me?"

The demon shrugged, it's armor exaggerating the movement. "You are the Last Prophet. Urkrathos lured you to _Tribunica_, captured the creature we needed to complete the ritual. We had no use for him, but we still needed you."

"The creature?" said Altair. The Lictor's ropes fell away. Azulanthis didn't notice.

"The Sentient. The creature of mind, but not of body. The only creature that was seperate from the two great powers of the Hive Minds. It is the only living being that can open the Warp for good. Create an eternity of Chaos...such glory....you cannot hope to understand the grander scheme, but you will."

The Lictor crawled silently to the blasted opening in the map room, past Gregory's splintered corpse. Fredric and nearly two hundred Marines had escaped into the ships, but many had been left behind. Including Altair.

The Lictor jumped to the gorund, instantly reverting to instinct and crawling to a vast crack in the pavement, leading into the labyrinth-like Undercity, where Azulanthis and his ilk would never find it. It vanished into the darkness, and Altair closed his eyes.

"You've lost, cretin."

Azualnthis saw the empty ropes with a howl of rage. 

"You....you will spend your times in Deimos. You WILL complete our destinies. You WILL finish this fight! The Long War is ending, my father, and not even YOU can HOPE to END IT!!"

And with that, the demon drew a wicked black knife and stabbed Altair. He howled in pain as the world went red, then white.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

He felt grass beneath his fingers.

He opened his eyes.

A black sky trudged to the horizen far beyond. Standing up onto the grassy knoll, he noticed a hooded figure moving toward him.

The figure threw back it's hood, revealing four burning green eyes and a fanged maw.

"I am Reyzak. Welcome to Deimos, my brother."

Altair looked at himself in the creature's mirrored armor, and with a sharp intake of breath, collapsed.

CONTINUED IN _Erebus_, the third of Five.


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## angels of fire

Wow!!!!!!!!


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## zboy234

Dude if you dont write more soon I'm going to kill you!:biggrin: kidding awesome fluff man


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks all. Look for _Erebus_ starting on Saturday.

-Dirge


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## Axe

Great story, read the whole thing.


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