# Bearers of the Word



## Longfang1234 (Jan 22, 2011)

Wee story involving the Word Bearers and the fate of those that didn't turn.
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_"...All could see how the gods had seeded their worship into our culture from generations in the past. The constellations. The cults that always looked skywards for answers. The Old Ways themselves. Few Word Bearers resisted the truth, for most had always felt it on some level."

"Few resisted..." An uncomfortable thought climbed Argel Tal's spine with prickling fingers. "Was there a purge? A purge of our own ranks?"

Erebus weighed his answer before giving it voice. "Not all wished to turn on the Imperium. They believed that stagnancy was strength, that stasis was preservation. No such reluctance remains in the Legion now."

So Word Bearer had slain Word Bearer.... _

***

Tar Argarus fired his storm bolter into the enemy warrior's chest as he barked orders into the vox. The Auroran slammed into a nearby plasteel wall, blood staining the white surface. 

"Form up on me! Take the citadel, burn them! For the Emperor!", cried the leader of the Golden Scepter chapter. "Squad Azar, flamers!". 

Grey-armored Space Marines thundered through the shattered streets of the enemy city, crunching over scattered masonry and bodies. Thousands of civilians lay dead and burning in wake of the Word Bearer assault. Argarus paid them no heed, heathens deserved of death.

The citadel was ablaze with purging fire as Squad Azar set fire to the defending warriors last stronghold. Burning silhouettes fell through ornate windows into the blasted streets below as white-hot promethium showed them the errors of their ways. 

Tar Argarus powered up his chainsword as the heavy doors of the citadel crumbled under the heat of the astartes weapons. His honor guard followed his charge without need for orders as he thundered into the breach, oaths to Lorgar and the Emperor spitting from his lips. 

The first Auroran was cleaved in two, from collarbone to pelvis, blood pumping out in a fountain. Argarus' second strike struck an Auroran as he turned to flee the astartes charge. Word Bearers poured into the last bastion of this human offshoot, so far removed from the light of the Emperor. How sad, thought Tar Argarus, that these men were so blindly giving their lives for a cause that need not be fought. Such heartache at fighting kinsmen. At that thought, Argarus' mind again clouded, and thoughts of the Legion returned. 

How long had they been fighting apart from Lorgar and the rest of their brothers? Too long. Bitterness gave way to understanding as Tar Argarus realized just how much the Legion had changed since their departure. A retinue of warriors from the Legion had reached the Golden Scepter forces anchored above Aurora, the latest world to be swallowed by the iron grip of the 8,442nd Expeditionary Force. Erebus had been among them. His words of lies and filth had not struck the hearts of the Scepters as it had the other chapters, and at that moment, as Erebus stood at a cold steel podium aboard the _Gifted Sword_, flagship of the 8,442nd, Argarus understood the direction of his beloved Legion. They were turning from the Imperium, Argarus was sure of it. 

That had been two months ago. Erebus' retinue left without another sermon or speech, and the invasion of Aurora had continued unhindered. But, deep in Argarus' heart, the words had clicked an acknowledgement inside him that his beloved warriors had perhaps lost forever, the respect and standing among their beloved Legion. 

"My lord, the enemy have surrendered, there are many still sealed within the underground vaults beneath this citadel. Your orders, sire?" asked Gorokth, Tar's second-in-command. 

"They ask for mercy when we offered them peace?" growled Argarus. "Let them remain sealed within their vaults, turn this citadel into rubble, destroy their exits." Such was the decision Argarus had to make, for mercy was weakness, and allowed for thoughts of rebellion and deception. 

"By your word, sire" barked Gorokth, immediately beginning to issue the orders. 

***

Tar Argarus sat in the hold of his spartan dwelling within the _Gifted Sword_, staring out of his small window into the field of stars. Out there somewhere was Colchis, his home, although he hadn't been home in many decades his heart longed for it now. Out there somewhere also was the deception and lies of Erebus and no doubt Kor Phaeron, he would have his spidery fingers deep in treachery. Half-astartes. Not worthy to pull on the granite grey of the Word Bearers. 

Argarus searched hard for the cause by which his beloved Legion had shunned the Emperor's light. Unease had rippled through the fleet, rumors spreading like wildfire of how the astartes contingent of the 8442nd had went silent after the arrival and departure of their brethren. Calls and questions lobbied by the mortals leading the fleet, all of which had been turned down by the confused astartes. 

As he left his room for the sparring cages and training rooms Argarus' mind continued to wander the pathways and spirals of his deep thoughts. How many Legions were as disillusioned as his? Angron's butchers? Perhaps centuries of their rage being curbed has finally made the Eater of Worlds snap. The Sorcerers of Prospero? Magnus had always been shunned by the other Legions, but he was perhaps the most loyal of all the Primarchs. The glowing hero that is the Warmaster must suspect treachery within the ranks of his Legions? Unless the deception of Erebus runs deep within the Imperium, entangled in the smallest, darkest reaches of society. Such thoughts made Argarus' stomach churn and unease rippled through his superhuman body. How far the ideals of the Imperium had fallen. How could one turn from the light of the Emperor? Savoir of Mankind? Unease gave way to anger, his grip on his chainsword tightening, teeth clenched. 

As the Space Marine approached the practice cages he sensed the tension in his brothers. Gorokth was there already, furiously cleaning his bolter, careful not to miss a single piece of metal. His face was as unreadable as a servitor, eyes focused. Most of Squad Azar was there, engaging in different activities. Delgron, Sergeant of the squad was pacing up and down the cold iron floor of the chamber, face etched in stone, eyes darting like the movements of a Colchisian hornet. 

Upon seeing their commander the warriors of the Golden Scepter stood at attention. "At ease," announced Argarus, his hands ready to tear some unfortunate servitors apart. 

"My lord," whispered Gorokth, "the men are, uneasy. They wait for your word. We need guidance. Some are talking of betrayal, is our Legion shamed once more? Has that worm Erebus took Lorgar from the Emperor's light?".

"I do not know Gorokth," replied Argarus. "All of you, listen to me now. What you believe is most likely true, for I am of equal thoughts. I believe our lord and Primarch, our beloved Lorgar, has stepped out of the Emperor's light, and into the darkness". Argarus let these words sink in to his men. Many faces were unreadable, as grey as the armor they wore and the guns they cleaned. 

"We have always stood side-by-side our Legion brothers. We were forced to our knees on Monarchia, alongside our kinsmen, shared the shame. We watched our father kneel before his father on those blasted plains. However, we all recover and regain our strength differently, we cleans our shame by different means! Our kinsmen have chosen to spit on their oaths of loyalty, chosen to forget what they are fighting for! We have always stood side-by-side our Legion brothers." 

Tar Argarus hesitated as he spoke the words which he knew would condemn his brothers. "But not this time, my friends. I will not turn my back on the being that created a new hope for Mankind. Erebus preaches change and transformation as the way forward! We know that this is wrong! The Imperium will endure. I will not take arms against our Emperor." 

"My lord, when Erebus hears of this, our brothers will assail us! What shall we do?" asked one of the younger marines. Fifty years in the Legion was young. 

"We shall give them one hell of a fight! Bear this Word my brothers, the Golden Scepter chapter will remain loyal to the Imperium, For The Emperor!" Argarus' decree was greeted by the roars and thundering of the betrayed, ceramite fists pounding upon chests, and oaths of revenge. 

*** 

- more will be up during this week, rather busy. cheers.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Fantastic*

This stor is very well written. Your work gets better with each story you write. Keep up the good work. The spacing was good as well. Kept me reading. :goodpost:


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## Longfang1234 (Jan 22, 2011)

second part uppp. 

***

"I wonder if there are any Aurorans left commander! Ha!" shouted Gorokth groggily, blood dripping from his burst lip. 

"Doubtful brother, the traitors were thorough in their bombardment", replied Tar Argarus darkly, his bolter snapping at enemy silhouettes in the distance. 

"We'll give them their due 'till the end then!" his lieutenant cried. 

Argarus nodded sharply, his attention focused on their attackers. They certainly had given them their due. Very much so, two years worth. Two years if fighting traitors. The commander himself had taken at least thirty of his former brother's lives. _Brothers_. Such hatred had now replaced respect and honor and loyalty. More granite-grey traitors poured out of transports. It still pained Argarus to look upon them and see the enemy. 

A shrieking, spiraling rocket tore through the air beside Tar's position, impacting the dirt behind a group of his warriors. Soil, burning metal and loyalist heroes came down around Argarus and the remainder of his forward command. The last of the human contingent of the 8,442nd perished at the turn of the first year, no match for the bolts of the traitors. 

The surviving population of Aurora didn't last much longer, the turncoat Word Bearers rounded the locals up and put them to the torch. The screams weren't half as bad as the smell. "Don't waver on me men! This is our battle!" roared Argarus, vox communications taking his voice along the lines. 

The roar of battle shook the rocks and pebbles off his trench, rogue bolts kicking up dirt in front of the forward lines. More bolts struck enemy astartes, punching their bodies back into groups of their comrades. More former brothers dead, more on their way. 

It was getting dark now, darker now that the dust had been thrown into the air. The cold was freezing over the blood in the trench. And the bodies. A traitor sergeant jumped into the pits beside Argarus, chainsword roaring, shouting oaths of encouragement to his fellows warriors who by now had reached the trench. 

Tar Argarth of the Golden Scepters met the warrior head on with his own chainsword, its jagged teeth gunning into life. Sparks flew as the two swords smacked into each other, broken teeth pinging off into the trench below. Such blades weren't meant to be struck together, but Argarus ignored that. The battle with the traitor raged on for more than a minute, with countless parries and blocks and ducks. Blood was drawn from both warriors as blows struck home and skin was sliced. The traitor brought down the chainsword overhand, cracking down onto Argarus side-ways block. 

"You have betrayed Lorgar! You have betrayed the Legion!" spat the traitor, eyes filled with utter hatred. 

"You have betrayed your species! Oath-breaker! You have been fed lies my old comrade." replied Argarus, anger and regret in his heart. Betrayal fueled his actions now. _The Betrayed_. 

"You know nothing cur. I have seen things you would not imagine." said the warrior darkly. With that he pushed harder. 

Argarus grip faltered, the more muscular traitor using it to his advantage. Argarus shunted to the side, allowing the whirring chainsword to strike him on the shoulder pauldron, ripping the paper oaths from his armor. A loose tooth sank into the soft point between his armor joints, causing pain to flare up his arm. However, the traitors blade had slipped down to Argarus' left. Argarus then took his right hand and scrambled for his combat knife, the enemy's chainsword temporarily jammed, eating into his armor. His ceramite was holding, taking the bite of the chainswords engine. His hands found the knife and with one stiff movement he stuck the blade in the traitors throat. 

Taking his eyes from the enemy corpse he saw similar scenes taking place along the line, with a uniform picture of traitors falling back towards their transports. Bolt fire followed them, tearing into power packs and shredding astartes meat. Tar gave the order to conserve it. They would need all they could get in the coming weeks. 

***


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

this is a good story, i know that there were questions over what happened to the WB that didn;t turn from the Emperors light and this is really good, hope to read more soon.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Ooooooh Yea!*

Keep it comming. M U S T H A V E M O R E !


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## Longfang1234 (Jan 22, 2011)

***

Tar Argarus' chainsword sparked as an enemy bolter clipped the power motor. He threw the shattered weapon aside in disgust. His bolt pistol bucked as he picked off charging traitors coming through the forest line. His men took potshots at their former brethren, thuds and smacks marking strikes on the warriors. 

Burning trees collapsed across the choked forest as bolter shells and shrapnel took their toll on the centuries old bark. Much of Aurora was like this now, a wasteland. Argarus had fewer than one hundred warriors left, many battered and bruised. Around half of his men were fighting with their swords and chainswords, ammunition and bolts long gone. 

Yet, the traitors kept coming. Thousands everyday. Determined to wipe out the loyalist stain and purge the ranks. Tar was proud of his men, they had defended the Emperor's honor with their lives. Who knew, maybe their actions had delayed their wayward brothers, and aided the defenders of the throne? Such concerns were put to the back of the mind. His brain had become attuned to survival. It was bred into them. They would not die.

They had defended the citadel for two years, throwing back waves of traitors, survived bombardments. However, such good fortune was not to last, no matter how determined. The enemy had found a way in through the shattered battlements, pouring in and slaying nearly two thirds of the defending loyalists. Handfuls of Tar's men died on the retreat into the mountains and forests as they were harried constantly and relentlessly. Gorokth died in the escape, defending the rear with a handful of his chosen warriors. They delayed the enemy for over two hours while the remnants of Argarus' troop escaped. 

Such stoicism and honor spurred the survivors on, further strengthening their resolve. They were no longer the Golden Scepters, they had become Argarus' Shadows. They painted their armor black in memory of their sacrifice and all their brother's sacrifices', the paint salvaged from a ruined factory at the summit of a mountain. This mountain is where they would base their operations in the resulting months, striking out at the traitor force, raiding their position and sinking back into the forest. 

For a further year, Argarus' Shadows had struck out at the enemy, harrying them. However, as before, such luck had ran out for the Shadows. The traitor ships in orbit began to pound the forest indiscriminately, burning the ancient forest. In recent weeks, the traitors had pinpointed the location of the old factory, positioning in a semi-circle around it. There would be no retreat this time. 

"Fall back men", shouted Argarus, as he turned back towards the base, honor guard in tow. "Fortify the factory".

Black figures moved silently back towards the rusting building over two miles away, setting up traps and killzones as they fell back. Such respect that Argarus held for his men, his _Shadows_. He would be honored to die beside them.

*** 

last bit up soon. hope youv liked it. sorry took ages just started new job.


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