Starting out his career as a humble preacher in Hive Decius, Confessor Adric Rhyne tended to his flock with great zeal. It was in the solar year 756.M41 that an outbreak of the deviant Confederation of Light, a heretical sect of the Imperial Cult broke out of hiding in the lower Hive. His faith threatened, Confessor Rhyne whipped up the populous into a great frenzy to help eradicate the infidels. He was successful in his shaping of the citizens into an effective fighting force and subsequent eradication of the Confederation. The eye of the upper echelons in the planets Ecclesiarchy saw fit to promote Adric to Confessor.
Notable exploits include exposing a decadent chaos cult of Slaanesh within the nobility of the Hive. Stopping the summoning of a cursed daemon of the warp by a deranged low level psycher. Breaking the back of numerous heretical uprisings through out the hive and maintaining the flock in the lower hives.
For several years he stood as a high-ranking noble’s adviser, but was cast out of the role after exposing a minor transgression of a powerful relative of his master.
In his crusade against the forces of chaos, the Confessor bit off more than he could chew and ran into a formidable cult of Khorne. Lucky to escape with is life, his desperate fight for survival meant the loss of his hand to a fanatic’s sword. His lesson learned he decided never to enter a den of evil alone. Training his most trusted followers, he bought them each a suit of protective armor and dubbed them the Crusaders of the Veiled Word. His hand now gone and replaced by a crude mechanism meant his fighting prowess was severely diminished. It seemed to the Confessor that divine intervention was bending his stiff back and showing him the way of brotherhood.
Confessor Rhyne has carried on his role as an enforcer of the Imperial Cult, preferring the surrounds of the lower hive to the spires of its rulers. With him he carries a holy book of the Imperial Cult and his ever-present icons of purity. He denounces the enemies of the Imperium as the Crusaders of the Veiled Word hack them to pieces in the name of the Ecclesiarchy and the Emperor.
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Desert Ambush
The dust kicked up by it’s tainted metal legs gave the Sentinel’s position away giving Sergeant Dioclese ample time to prepare the ambush. The space marine had been fighting these treacherous auxiliary for several months now. The clanking hulk before him now was the only survivor of an artillery strike seventeen kilometers back.
As the cursed machine stomped through the gap the trap was sprung with practiced efficiency. The Sergeant leaped from his vantage point high above the traitor, his power swords eager to taste the corrupted engine. “For the Emperor!”, he bellowed as the first sword plunged into the top most armor, slicing through it like butter. As the space marine passed over the Sentinel, his second sword came swiping under the body hewing the diseased metal in two. The tainted wreck screamed a machine howl, the sound echoing off the rocky protrusions dotted throughout the desert. The Sergeant’s body hit the dirt with a practiced roll, standing up in front of his handiwork.
The wind howled across the plains as the creaking halfs crashed to the ground, the lone space marine already accessing his helmet’s auspex for his next victim.
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The First Angel
The angel of the First looked on at what his brothers had wrought. Desolation as far as his genetically enhanced eyes could see. A wisp of smoke drifted lazily across his vision. It’s meandering tendrils a stark contrast to the swift violence that was carried out just hours before. The angel turned his head to watch a building crumble under it’s own weight, it’s structure riddled with battle wounds. Dust splayed out from the devastation as the rockcrete grinded against itself in its descent.
He and his brothers had laid waste to this forsaken planet in the name of the Emperor. Their duty had been performed with precision and an unwavering determination. The cursed enemy were defiant to the end, those known as The Brethren of the Golden Strain. Tainted by the insidious xenos genestealers.
There was no hope for this planet. Once its defense systems fired on the angel’s vessel the planet’s fate was sealed. No mercy was expected and certainly not given. Control of the defense systems meant all levels of the planet had been corrupted by the xenos plague. Therefore all had to be purged. An attempt to preserve industry and infrastructure would be made but the priority was eradication of the cancer that infested this planet.
Eventually the angels had made their way to the governor’s palace to execute those in power. Twisted abominations had met them. Hulking monsters with crude weapons. All had been slain. The governor himself, riddled with mutations was executed without ceremony, despite his pleading and protests. At the last he cursed the Emperor and the angels. He was cut short as the angel stomped on his head, spraying brain matter and skull fragments across the rich carpet.
And so the angel stood and contemplated as explosions rained down from above, destroying the last of the buildings. None would be left living here. In the centuries to come this place would be rebuilt to become a productive member of the Imperium once more.
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Last Stand
The final shot had shattered his shoulder, making his arm useless. Involuntary his fist clenched around the handle of his chainsword, revving the weapon as it hit the ground, kicking up bits of debris. Sparks flew out as the blade bucked up against the ancient metal pillar, its tough exterior making the weapon spit teeth from its length.
The readouts in his augmented eye told him one of his hearts had already stopped, the other fading fast. He had seconds before he expired but still his resolve enabled him to bend his inhuman will power into raising his weapon one last time.
He attempted to utter a prayer to his Primarch and Emperor, but the words could not be forced out. Instead he squeezed out a shot at the enemy that went wide, his aim compromised due to his injuries. He blinked clarity into his blurred vision and mustered the last of his strength. An inhuman shout tore from his lips as his bolt pistol barked it’s cleansing fire one last time.
He knew he hit something but his body was spent, his vision blurred to uselessness as his last breaths escaped his lips. His last gasp stolen from him as another projectile blew half of his cranium apart, brain matter and slivers of skull bouncing off the pillar behind him.
