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.
-
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.
-
Experiment 295-E
It had been in captivity for countless centuries, held in its prison with powerful wards and psychic shields by its captors. Those long centuries dragged by with endless questioning and experiments done on its person.
First came the questions. Such simple fools. Where did it come from? What was its agenda? Soon after came the pain, with their crude implements. They cut and they drilled and they probed. They removed its hands. Once they realised the regenerative power of the creature, they soon stopped that practice. The creature’s bodily defense mechanism generating scything talons where once there were hands.
With each question and each answer, the creature of Chaos injected its captor’s demise one word at a time. Oh, they thought they were so clever, so smart! So safe with their wards and their ‘power’. Little did they know the destructive power of knowledge. And so year after year, decade after decade the creature slowly twisted and bent its captors until one fateful day when its plans came to fruition and its captors tore themselves apart. At their last they had tried to destroy the creature. Their fruitless efforts were mocked and laughed at all the while by the creature.
None survived but the creature now, all alone on this planet.
But the creature had made a miscalculation. It had made a fatal error, an assumption. It had thought the shields and wards and spells would dissipate with its captors demise. They had not. But little matter. The creature was patient and the wards could not last forever.
And so it waited and the seasons turned and the stars died and were reborn again and still it waited, searching, always searching for a weakness in the defenses that held it in this prison.
Until one day it found a crack.
With renewed vigor the creature attacked the breach, widening the crack until the first layer shattered, weakening the rest. It knew it was mere years away from freedom. It did not need sleep or rest as mortals thought of it and so it worked day and night on the breach, picking away at the threads one at a time and then the second and third barriers were destroyed. The rest were childs play, and fell away like rotten cloth before its might.
It was free! It could do the work of its master once more! A thousand worlds would be destroyed before the creature was brought to heel but the damage was done and the creature’s task completed.
-
Crusader
The Battlecruiser had been screaming through the warp for 9 weeks, eager to reach its destination. Just as eager, the battle brothers of the Black Templars inside it were preparing for war. Fervent prayers to the Emperor echoed out through the corridors, contrasting with the ring of steel as warrior sparred against warrior.
Brother Dietrich of the Crusader Squad Demies stalked through the corridors of the Battlecruiser lost in thought. He and his fellow Initiates had just attended the daily sermon of their company chaplain after which Brother Dietrich felt the need to walk the halls. Soon the sounds of his brothers died away and without realizing it, he had made his way to areas of the bowels of the ship where his brothers rarely tread. The warrior passed terrified serfs, caught by surprise by the towering Initiate. Many of them cowered in the corners as the warrior passed, some whimpering, some whispering prayers to the Emperor, some just stared in awe. The soldier paid them no mind, they being beneath his notice.
Thoughts raced through his mind. It had been several months since The Barbarossa Crusade had been fought, and he and his brothers were hungry for meting out the justice of the Holy Emperor. The Cruxis Crusade was just outside of their grasp, the physics of space and time delaying the slaying of witch and hated xenos.
He closed another air lock and stopped, resting the butt of his battle axe on a storage container. The cramped corridor felt oppressive to his colossal bulk. The incense from his censers rose to his nose, calming him and silencing the turmoil of his mind.
Just then klaxon alarms rose and the overhead lights turned a sharp red. Brother Dietrich raised his head, a fervent smile across his face. His power fist clenched involuntarily. At last, he thought. The Black Templars were going to war.
