House Ainfaust Explorator Fleet H3X-138 : Thorn Moons Crusade

  The clandestine Rogue Trader House of Ainfaust has once again launched an Explorator Fleet with the most feared and trusted Arch Magos Ramik Ungol. Known for his maniacal obsession with prolonging life through the apprehension of ancient technologies, Ramik "The Immorta" has served House Ainfaust for thousands of years after leaving the Forge World of Fusilios IX to search the stars for knowledge. 

  Now that the Path to the Thorn Moons lies open, Ramik and his Skitarii Legions along with the Ainfaust Lancers will hunt down the Green Mechancvm and all who stand in their way. The Arch Magos believes that the Key to Eternal Life lies upon the Thorn Moons and he will stop at nothing to claim that information for himself and the House he owes allegiance to.

  High Ranking agents and House Retainers were sent with the Fleet to ensure the Arch Magos stays true. Highest on that list is Lakoda Thamuz, a powerful, sanctioned Psyker and one time Gang Lord of Hive City Orinsreich.

   Second to Lakoda but just as dangerous and respected is Raef Osvald, Chief Retainer to House Ainfaust in all off world affairs. Raef was raised in one of the many death cults that operate in the Rygaan system from which House Ainfaust rules, he is more than capable of commanding small units of recon fighters to whole companies of warriors. 

  Where Raef leads, Kardo Tierrez watches and executes from a distance. A superb marksman and tracker, the cybernetic enhanced hunter killer will not rest until the objective is gained.

  Last but not least, Lord Stalos Ainfaust personal Tech Adept, Gol-Gol-1 has been sent to monitor and report all that transpires and also to learn more from the Tech Priests of the Omnissiah. Gol-Gol-1 may yet be the most important individual in the Fleet, but only time will tell.

The Hygarian Chronicles : The Adventures Of Skelebone, Grom the Barbarian, Helga of the Dwarf Kingdoms and The Eyepatch Kid of the Fairykin.

  A hundred years after the Fall of Castle Hygar and the Ruin of the Emerald Vale, there came a young boy from the South Lands. Clad in the garb and skull mask of his father, he sought out his fortune and fought his way North, finally reaching the famous Crossroads of Konrad. It was here that Skelebone meet his companions Helga of Vulfheim, the runaway Fairy woman child that called herself The Eyepatch Kid and mighty Grom, a barbarian from the Northlands beyond the Black Hills of Howards Reach.

  What an odd party thought the wagons owner, A greying Dwarf from the East, he often came to the West to trade. His name was Tor and he was well known amongst the Merchant Guilds of the Five Counties under the Protection of his Lord, Duke Von Drago, Master of the West Vale. 

  Despite being well known, the wagon and its party were caught off guard as arrows whistled into the night and struck down one of the mules and also wounding Tor.

"DEATH !" screamed high pitched voices in the dark.

Howls and war chants rang out as more arrows hit the wagons canvas.

" Out! Now !" Yelled Helga at her younger companions as she unhooked the warhammer from her back sling. 

" Goblins no doubt." muttered Grom, his axe gripped firmly, ready for combat. 

The two younglings, scrambled for cover behind the wagons wheels, Skelebone unsheathing his fathers scimitar as he yelled a battle cry of the Southlands.

Helga and Grom fought side by side as the enemy was amongst them. Skulls were smashed and limbs hacked and mangled as the Goblins did their best to overwhelm their prey.

But it was not so. The mighty barbarian and the Dwarf warrior were well versed in battle and the wild mob of Goblins was no match for axe and warhammer.

Even Skelebone and the Eyepatch Kid managed to fend off their attackers, killing a few smaller Goblins as the ran off in disarray.

As the Crossroads dust settled and the Goblins long fled into the Wolf Woood, The Eyepatch Kid comforted old Tor.

" Thank you, young one. Please, take me to Shempsburg. I have friends there that can help you and heal me, for I believe this arrow to be poisoned." Tor groaned.

" You can count on us!" Skelebone piped in as he took the reigns of the wagon mule and waved the party to climb aboard. 

As they began North, Grom looked back to the horizon, making note of the Horseman who watched them.

" So it begins, he spat." Raising his axe to taunt the Horseman.

HIVE CITY CANIS

 Hive Canis lies to the South of Hive Primus.Surrounded by vast mountians of ash and sludge seas, the city is one of Necromundas main contributors of raw materials.

 Ruled by three ruling Noble families; House Calderon, House Hepzeba and House Olerand, they do as they please So long as they do not interfere with Lord Helmawrs interests, the Imperial Tithes and the Merchant Guild. The Rule of House and Hive still reign and Hive Canis has been known to be just as violent as any other Hive on Necromunda. The three ruling Noble Houses lord over the six Houses of Canis Hive City. House Faustos, House Gorian, House Teroa, House Aryas, House Sicario, House Tarak.

Each House has their own style of dress and beliefs the same as any other House of Necromunda. The one common trait all Houses of Canis share is a heavy allegiance to The Cult Mechanicus, as the citizens of the city are augmented in one way or another.

Just as all other Houses Fued within and without their own Hive, the common enemy of all the Houses is the many Nomad Clans of the Ash Wastes. Control of the Ore trade is number one on this part of Necromunda. And every House and gang will go to extreme ends to see themselves be on top.

The 4th Raalparthian Grenadiers

The Raalparthian Grenadiers were known by many in the Segmentum Solar as one of the finest Imperial Guard regiments since the High Lords of Terra came to power. Known by all who served alongside them as “violently loyal” and “brutally precise” due to their no nonsense attitude to combat.  Their service to the Imperium has resulted in changing the way standard war has been fought, especially in situations of long term engagements on Hive worlds, guerilla war fare on death worlds, hand to hand combat on space hulks and stronghold assaults.  The world of Raalpartha is also the home of one of the Imperiums’ finest sniper schools as well as one of the premier training facilities for specialized warfare.

  The most decorated regiment in recent Imperial History has been the 4^th Grenadiers. In over 100 campaigns, the 4^th never retreated and came out the victor at the end of every bloody engagement. Their 101^st campaign had them on the edge of the Eye Of Terror, sent to fight alongside two full battle companies of the Red Reapers Adeptus Astartes. They fought for nearly a month on their own against overwhelming numbers of Black Legion Chaos marines and over 500 hundred thousand renegade traitor Guard.  Both forces were overrun and wiped out with the exception of a small frigate that managed to slip away before the planet was virus bombed by the Black Legion.

The frigate docked on Cadia with its only passengers being Inquisitor Chambers ,Chaplain Bravva of the Red Reapers and ten near death survivors of the 4^th Grenadiers.

No other regiment will bear the name of the 4^th as a show of the respect for the price that was paid.

The ten survivors were deemed unfit to return to duty as a result of the horrors they encountered. 

Their whereabouts are unknown.

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 16

16:  FLESH AND IRON

  Five Shotguns. Five lasrifles. Five Autoguns. Two heavy bolters. One plasma rifle. Two bolt guns. Six laspitols. Four autopistols. Five stub guns. Two flamers. One melta gun. Three chainswords and about two dozen assorted grenades. This what decades of hoarding creds had got Hex. He could arm a small platoon of PDF soldiers. Instead he was arming a bunch of old gang war dogs. They still needed to pay the new blood that they would need. Nowadays gangers didn’t join for pride and gang turf, they only cared about the creds. Even the Orlocks living in Dead Mans Hole would be wary of joining a gang that has been outlawed for years. The price of flesh and iron was worth it though. Revenge was always worth it.

  So many men that Hex had called brother were no longer with them. Too many. They had been gunned down fighting with or running from, the Arbitrators’ Enforcer squads. Many died at the now infamous “Battle at the Crag”. The final showdown between the outlawed gangs of the Underhive versus Helmwars forces; a force of Necromundan PDF troops, Adeptus Arbites, Watchmen gangs and even an Inquistor and his retinue. The battle may have ended with Jester fighting Arbitrator Rodrigo at the edge of the Crag, but, that’s not how the war started or how it was going to end.

  If Hex was worried about the days and weeks to come, he didn’t show it. Logan was now a few days sober and he was thinking clear again. They had found old man Blazer working a slime rig by day. He was more than happy to don his old gang colors.  Axle and Alex, the twins, had been found by Logan. Hex sought out Stone for days, but once they found him, the mean old bastard was never far from Hexs’ side.

  In the passing days The reformed Iron Fists gang had recruited ten new gangers and two heavies. Hex was surprised by how they had sought him out once word had spread about their return. The veteran gang members had turned away all juves. This was no time to be green. This isn’t a back alley gang fight. This is warfare. Last man standing. Last chance to set the record straight once and for all.

Hex and Logan had decided that they were going to gear up the gang. They knew a Precint house was not too far from Dead Mans and that was the best place to start getting even. The pair of Orlocks decided to meet up Brassers for a good luck drink when they saw Colt running towards them. Logan waved to him and raised his fist, just as Colt hit lost his balance and slammed into the dusty, broken asphalt. They sprinted over to him as others in the community began to form a crowd. He was holding his stomach. His hand sopping with blood.

Hex sat him partially up. Shaking his head, he could tell his old friend had lost too much blood.

“I made it.” Colt said, gritting his teeth and trying to smile despite the pain.

“Those bastards got a lucky shit, but I outsmarted them. Made my way back through the air duct system. Dino…Dino’s gone. I don’t know what happened to Dax either..but..but..we have to be ready brothers. They’re coming.”

Hex bit his tongue. Another brother was dying before his eyes, in his arms, again.

“Who’s coming Colt?” Logan begged.

His breathing was ragged. The fall had knocked the wind from him.

“I don’t know who they are. Thought it was Van Saars but they got more tek than I ever seen. They have to be working with the Dealques. You need to get the hell outta here. Find Dax….finish this. Don’t let these gits come to our town and burn it down. Not after all we been through. It’s all we got. I stuck it to em before I came home though ha ! What good is all that cybernetic crap if it can’t stop a grenade….”

Colt’s body went into seizure and he blacked out. Hex did his best to hold his friend until the shaking stopped. His eyes rolled open and his last breathe left his body. Logan turned away in disbelief.

Hex nodded to his friend. And put his fist to his heart.

“Grab his legs Logan, were taking him home.”

*

  The Stranger was in deep shit. He had been in the thickest of the thick, but this was all bad. Alone in the dark, surrounded by countless walking corpses and what appeared to be a rampaging underhive beast. He was also out of ammo and the constant Hive quakes seemed this whole dome was about to come down on top of him.

  He was having hard time staying focused with all the groaning and the wailing of the beast. He still couldn’t make it out and he was sure he didn’t want to fully know what it was. It appeared to be indifferent to the zombies though, as it barged through them to get at him. Twice it had charged and rammed the small shack he was standing on. Knocking him off and into the horde. Twice he fought his back to another roof and managed to avoid the beast. From what he could tell though, the creature seemed to be a filthy hybrid of the giant rats that plagued the Underhive and some other reptilian thing. Only the Sump could have produced such a damnable thing.

The Stranger’s body was aching and he was tired. The cat and mouse game had gotten old, real fast. He drew his his long blade that was fixed to his thigh and decided to put his faith in his steel rather than wait it out an longer. He took a running leap and rolled into a half dozen rotten souls, smashing them to the broken pavement. He beheaded the first one that was within arm’s reach. Kicked another in the chest and began clearing a small hole for himself to make a run for it.

  The beast roared and charged as the Stranger fought his way through the crowd, heading in the direction of the vent stack. It was his only hope. He didn’t even bother looking back. He ran with all the remaining strength he could muster and still it wasn’t fast enough. The beast closed in on him, Dax could feel its body heat, the stink of its breath and its hot spit on his back.

  The Stranger turned and dropped on his back, holding his blade with both hands he thrust upwards, using the beasts momentum to carve itself a new chest cavity. The beast cried out as its bloated flesh was ripped open and it’s innards spewed out onto Dax and the ground like a giant ball of puss. Dax was knocked into the vent stack bulkhead as the beast’s body smacked into him at crushing speed. His vision spun and his head rang from the force of impact. He was covered in guts from head to toe but he was alive. Staggering up and heading for the vent entrance he looked back.

He couldn’t make out the person in the dark watching him, but Dax knew he was there. He could feel live eyes in the sea of dead ones. He stood for a moment defiant as ever, gesturing with his middle finger his feeling on the situation. Just as he entered the vent stack another Hive quake began. This time it was three times as powerful as the previous. Support beams directly above came crashing down and the rockcrete above came cascading down.

Whoever was tracking him was going to have a hard time crossing the avenue that was  now chocked with debris and the hungry dead. Still he wondered who it was and if they were this good, could they track his movements through the massive network of ventilation access tunnels?

He didn't wait to find out. He limped as fast as he could, heading for Dead Mans Hole.

Of Templars And Angels 2

2.

Anaru sat with his head in his hands. In all his years he had never been this afraid. He was being accused of murder and treason, a crime that would take his life and also the light of the Emperor.  He shook his head over and over in disbelief. 

His cell opened.

Two space marines now stood before him, their black armor covered in robes and seals and symbols of their faith and devotion to the Emperor.

Anaru had but a few faded gang tattoos and the Imperial Aquila on his body. His fath was strong though and he had prayed non-stop since speaking with the psyker days ago.

“Good evening Captain, on your feet please. The Marshal needs words with you.”  One of the Astartes stated.

Anaru stood and walked out his cell, grateful to stretch his legs.

“Will the psyker be there?” he asked them.

Both Templars shook their heads slowly.

“This is not your interrogation; the Marshal wants to merely meet with you. No individual with the taint of the warp is allowed in our living quarters.”

They escorted him through the higher decks of their ship. Every neophyte and serf and Astarte gave him cold nods. They were not looks of hate, rather, severe acknowledgment.  He was a captain of the Imperial Guard, someone who commanded and was trusted. Someone now in their custody.

Every few meters he would take notice of the war banners, murals or some other curio. Items that would have been used in war now enshrined as holy artifacts in baroque cases. This ship must have seen thousands of campaigns based on their battle honors. A whole hallway was filled with the names of fallen Templars, so that they would be remembered by all who walked the hallways of the Reconquista. So many great deeds, all done in the name of the Emperor. It made Anaru feel proud he was in their presence. If only the circumstances were different.

The Marshal was sitting at his desk, an ornate slab of marble carved with the images of Rogal Dorn and the heraldry of the Black Templars. Data slates and scrolls piled around his desk, his personal servo skull and servitor prepping more information for him to go over. He looked up Anaru and pushed the scrolls he was reading to one side. He motioned for Anaru to be seated. He kept his gaze the entire time. Sizing him up and receiving a data slate from his servitor.

“I am Marshal Kraus, Captain Anaru. I have been meaning to speak to you about the incident aboard your companies’ ship. I am not one to blindly judge, Captain. I wish to know the truth and every detail of it. I would hate to send a man such as yourself to his end in shame. The Emperor forgives as well as he protects. Your Colonel seems to think you are worthy enough of salvation of some kind. I am quite curious as to how you ended up in the position that we found you in.”

Anaru kept the Marshals gaze. Mildly, he shrugged and let out a heavy sigh.

“I will do my best to answer all your requests, Marshal Kraus.”

Marshal Kraus sat upright and cracked the tension from his neck.

“You have been Captain of the first company for five years. Two years serving as First Lieutenant directly under Colonel Ogati. You made first sergeant for your platoon in your first year fighting with the 21^st. You’ve campaigned on the front lines most of your career, Captain. The only blemish I can even see is before your time with the Astra Militarum. We all have a past though, even I was involved in the violence that is youth gangs, though that seems centuries ago. You are highly decorated, a warrior and a leader of men in the Holy Emperors Name. So can’t help but hold some faint notion that I do not believe the evidence against you one hundred percent.”

Anaru’s eyes lit up with hope. He felt the blackness in his heart lift and he cleared his throat.

“I thank you Marshal Kraus, for allowing me the benefit of the doubt.”

The Marshal nodded his head and poured the Captain a cup of recaff. His servo skull floating jut behind him, no doubt pict recording the entire conversation.

 “Now, tell me about your mission and the events leading up to your fleet entering the asteroid field, Captain. What you remember may not only save your soul, but the souls of all those on Salessia IV.”

Anaru sipped from the recaff goblet. He leveled his gaze upon the Marshals cold gray eyes. His servitor lumbered over to Anaru, offering him a tin of cigaros.

Anaru took one and lit it. Savoring the flavor and exhaling his nervousness out.

 “We received our orders on the third Sunday of last month. We had only just returned to Poirua from an offensive against the greenskins on Kristzurch IX. We were briefed shortly, as we were getting reports slowly through the Astronomicon. From what the pict and text data had showed, the renegades launched a blitzkrieg assault, taking the PDF by surprise and securing two major Diocese in less than a week. For some reason they were able to contact us for aid, but we had no confirmation that they had received any of our messages via the Astrotelapathica. Nevertheless we had our objectives.Commissar Erastus had gave the lads a pep talk about what were up against. As time went on we had seen images of these renegades. They were butchering civilians as they went, and doing worse to the women. We had agreed that no quarter was to be given and we had instructed all infantry to fix bayonets before deployment. There was talk about the renegades not yet having access to the PDLB’s. This was to be or advantage, as we would be dropped straight into enemy controlled zones, from the Fleet ships in orbit. Each company had specific targets and instructions given to us by command. Colonel Otagi had tasked the 1^st with assaulting the Diocese of Saint Mendoza, as Arch Bishop Jerall was under siege and his Apostle Guard were outnumbered nearly six to one. Jerall’s protection or extraction was of the utmost importance, for whatever reasons they may be. Commissar Erastus and I had agreed he could not fall into the hands of traitors, as we both knew what traitors do to a man of the cloth. “

Anaru lit another cigaro and drank the remnants of the recaffin his goblet. Noticing that the servitor was already refilling another goblet and Marshal Kraus was paying very close attention, his hand scribing away on a small scroll.

“Planetfall was set for 0300 hours Salessia time. The Fleet had entered the warp all at the same time, though our own ship was delayed buy a mere half hour, some malfunction with our void shields. The problem was dealt with and we were on our way. To my knowledge we were supposed to come out of the warp directly above Salessia. I do not know what happened as we were knocked around by the constant bombardment of the asteroids.  I just remember seeing the fleet being obliterated before my eyes and not being able to do damn thing about it.”

Marshal Kraus made a note and stirred in his seat.

“I woke up here, with a headache worse than any hangover ever and that psyker telling me I had killed my astropath and navigator. I’m sorry. That’s all I can remember so far, Marshal.”

The servo skull flew off into the darkness of the Marshals’ chamber and Kraus slowly stood.

“Thank you for your honesty Captain. I would hope you will remember more without the aid of your pimaris psyker. I have no trust of such…beings. I would like to think you would also remember more before you go before Interrogator Zephael. He is not known to be as pleasant as myself.”

Anaru stood and saluted the Marshal .

He was escorted back to his cell in silence. 

Come To The Sabbath

  The Death Walker crew emerged from the smoke-choked battlefield. Their black and crimson armor shone in the waning dusk. Waiting at the entrance to the ancient Stormbird was Kefron, a wise and most evil sorcerer lord. The followers of Khorne cared not for magic, but Kefron had promised them power of unimaginable heights. He knew of dark and forbidden places few remembered. He promised them the Blood God’s favor.
“Is it done Gath? Do you have what I asked of you?” Kefron groaned.
 “Aye, wizard I do. But take me for no fool; I shall let you have it soon. Take us now to this altar you claim.” Gath said prominently.
 Kefron paused, looking over the remaining World Eater party. There had been at least sixty when they landed. Now only twenty remain, Gath included.
 “Worry not Gath. I know the way.”
 They boarded the Stormbird, heading north over the vermillion sea.
Kefron once belonged to the Night Lords legion, but over time he grew mad with his pursuit of knowledge. He ventured from world to world, lending his black arts to the Traitor Marine Lords. Nothing seemed to quell his appetite for all things arcane and magnificent. In previous times he used the Night Lords to fulfill his wishes; now though, he used any that answer his call. Many did, so long as they too reaped powerful rewards. Such is the fate of Gath the Death Walker.
“There it is!” Kefron groaned, pointing out the hulking stone edifice.
 It was ominously antiquated, covered in thick, web-like moss. The Stormbird descended to the rocky hill top, as the planets emerald sun vanished beneath the horizon. The Berserker party trudged down the ramp, holding their position at the vanguard of the titanic temple. The crude steps leading up to the passageway were littered with weapons, armor and bones of another era. Kefron stood behind Gath and whispered.
 “So, my friend, now your fate stands before you. Shall you answer the call of your god?”
 Gath turned to the sorcerer, raising a leather bloodstained pouch.
 “This shall be yours once we return to our ship.” Kefron frowned, and nodded.
 Wielding Snagga in his right hand, Gath continued.
 “Lead the way, wizard.”
Kefron lumbered up the steps careful no tot trample any objects.
 “This way my friends. Come; come to the Sabbath of Khorne.”
 With a wave of his hand the rotted moss parted, revealing a rusted egress emblazoned with the symbol of Khorne. Gath and his Berserkers stopped short, unsure of themselves. The brazen door opened slowly and Kefron ventured into the gloom. Gath followed suit, wondering what lay in the heart of this shrine to the Blood God.
The long hallway seemed to stretch out into another realm altogether. Reaching what appeared to be the main chamber, Gath heard…no, felt voices in his head.
 “Come; come; feed me; bring me skulls.” the voice beckoned.
 Gath shook his head and gripped Snagga tighter. He looked over his shoulder; Jagee and Fausto had obviously heard it too, for they stood with their backs to each other, waiting for an attack. Vaakon, Bael and Xerzes had also stopped in their tracks. Gath slowed his pace; still heading towards the dimly lit altar that Kefron now kneeled before. Gormaar, Torg and Harek flanked Gath. The rest of the Berserkers waited in the darkness.
 “Kefron,” Gath whispered, “what now?”
 Kefron rose to his feet, and lit a large candle. It illuminated the chamber, revealing blood stained walls and mounds of skulls, human and alien alike. Kefron pulled a silk cover to the floor, revealing a grim brass statue of a horned and mighty daemon. Axe in hand, he sat, hundreds of skulls at the base of his feet.
“Your Lord Khorne;” Kefron began, “Here his presence is felt like no other. Stand before him Gath Deathwalker, receive his blessings and do his biddings.”
 Gath knelt beneath the blazing idol. Silently he spoke to Khorne, asking for power; strength to defeat any who stood before him in battle; strength to suffer grievous wounds and fight on. The temple quaked. A harsh hot wind rushed in, blowing out the candles. Thunderous laughter shook the altar.
 “Bring me his skull and it shall be done.” the voice boomed in his head.
 The Berserker party backed away from their commander, who now glowed red in the pitch black of the shrine. Striding towards Kefron, Gath switched on his double-headed chain-axe, savoring the thought of killing the sorcerer. Kefron, sensing he was endangered, leapt backwards, unsheathing his great sword. He cleaved a Berserker’s head clean from his shoulders and cursed the Blood God.
 “Bring me the wizard!” Gath shouted to his troops, his voice deep and twisted.
 Several Berserkers rushed him, chain-swords and axes wailing. Kefron unleashed a pulsating wave of warp energy. The Marines fell; their heads exploding in a shower of crimson. Gath leapt over his fallen comrades, wildly swinging his axe. Kefron blocked his attacks, desperately trying to escape. The World Eaters stood watching the mighty battle, Kefron and Gath both glowing in the darkness.
“Fool! You attack me after I have led you here! Your power you owe to me!” Kefron bellowed, deflecting the onslaught of blows.
 “This matters not to Khorne; only that your skull sits at his feet and your soul reaped in his name!” Gath proclaimed.
 Kefron kicked out, knocking Gath to the floor. Kefron ran for the hallway, stopping short he began an incantation, trying to bring the wrath of his magic upon Gath.
“Your parlor tricks won’t work on me wizard…Khorne commands this hall! Tonight you sleep in Hell.”
Kefron began to panic, falling on his ass and begging for mercy, like a dog. Gath raised Snagga and drove it into Kefrons’ breastplate, splattering bone and blood across the floor. Kefron, screaming in agony, Snagga bit down again, nearly cutting him in two, the ancient chain-axe screaming and spitting sparks. Choking on his own blood, he reached out for Gath only to be swatted back to the gored, stone floor. Gath delivered the killing stroke; the sorcerers head rolling back down to the altar, his life force spilling everywhere.
Gath walked back to the altar, still glowing, his men standing about in confusion. He placed Kefron’s decapitated head at the feet of the idol.
 “Yeeeesssssssss.” the voice boomed in his head.
 Gath stood in front of the altar, his body violently shaking. His men began running for the exit not sure what was going on. Kefron’s carcass hovered above the floor, electric currents running over the body. Gath was suddenly thrust to the ground; the chamber began to hum and vibrate. Looking up, Gath saw the very fabric of reality tear, the warp spilling through into the shrine. A whirlwind of colors surrounded Gath. He dragged himself to his knees, struggling to see what was happening. Kefron’s body was being dragged into the warp by the hounds of Khorne, their daemon master howling and laughing. Gath finally rose to his feet, gazing into the Immaterium. The giant daemon saluted Gath, his hounds still fighting for Kefron’s body. Gath was thrown across the shrine as the portal closed.
Stepping out into the rising dawn, Gath walked past his crew. Only eight now remained. Their eyes followed him as he boarded the Stormbird.
“What is the plan Captain?” Vaakon asked, unsure if Gath was even coherent.
 He reached into one of his satchels and produced an ornate amulet of shimmering violet. The Berserkers all stared at it, dumbfounded.
 “The wizard said this rune was a key. To what, I know not. I do know his next destination was the Purgatory system. He was to liaison with a Night Lords force en route. I say we join them; take skulls for Khorne and see what this key opens.”
In the depth of space, amongst the stars, Gath sat listening to the voice.
 “Skulls; skulls for my throne…blood for the Blood God….skulls for my Sabbath…”
‘Come to the Sabbath…’ Gath remembered the wizard saying.
 The Sabbath of war is all Gath the Death Walker shall live for.

written 2006, revised 2011

Of Templars And Angels 1

1.

    The silence was beginning to get the better of Captain Anaru. Not that he was bothered by the dark, mote irritated by the fact he had awaken in the pitch with no clue to his location and whether or not he was a prisoner. He knew he had been conscious for several hours now. He knew he was in a walled room. Growing up in the Underhive, he was more than familiar with the darkness and and the suffocating feeling of tight places. Despite his rising anger, he remained calm, trying to remember what happened. All he could keep seeing was the the millions of asteroids destroying the Fleet as the ships came out of warp space where Salessia IV was supposed to be. So many ships ripped to nothing. So many souls lost. He shook the memory and made the sign of the Aquila.

Anaru began whispering to himself the events in order, but he seemed to have gaps in his memory. It hurt to think, no doubt he had a concussion. He cursed himself for coming up blank. His head seemed to hurt twice as bad if he tried to push aside his thoughts. His body hurt and the air itself seemed thick and heavy. It was almost as if he was being punished for not remembering how he got here.

"YOU ARE."

Anaru nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard the cold voice echo and bounce from wall to wall, ear to ear and through his mind and down his spine. He was paralyzed by the voice. It was then that he realized he was in a cell and the voice was that of a psyker.

"EASY"

The voice released his grip on Anaru's mind and body.

Gasping for air and trying to stand, Anaru nearly double over in agony and loss of equilibrium.

"What have I done...to..to deserve this and who.....who.. are you ?" He asked the voice.

"WHO I AM IS NO CONCERN. WHAT YOU HAVE DONE IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH."

The voice boomed at Anaru, nearly making him vomit.

"TELL ME WHY YOU MURDERED YOUR ASTROPAT.,"

Anaru's mind swam with half images and blurred memory. Bloody carnage and screams. Sounds of violent destruction.

"I...can't remember." Anaru cried out.

"THE MORE LIES THE WORSE THE JUDGEMENT."

"WHY DID YOU MURDER YOUR NAVIGATOR?"

The voice rang like a thousand death bells in his skull.

Anaru was on his knees, clutching at his skull.

"It’s not lies, I can't remember! PLEASE! STOP!"

The lights came on so sudden it blinded Anaru. He collapsed to the floor, squinting to focus on the shape in front of him.

It was most definitely a psyker.

Tall and pale. Eyes like twin suns. He wondered if this psyker was going to kill him now.

“I am not your judge or jury Captain Anaru. I have been sent here to help you by your Regimental Command. Though, I am not sure I can help you."

"I didn't kill anyone !" Anaru pleaded. " We were dead in the sky before we even reached the surface, I'm not sure how I even managed to survive..."

The psyker looked at him quizzically and coldly.

"Your ship ripped through warp space after avoiding total destruction in the asteroid field some hundred light years from Salessia IV. You then crashed into a small Mechanicus freighter upon re-entering real space about five light years from Salessia Prime. The Priests called for aid and the nearest Imperial force answered the call."

"All the men under your command were found deceased. Some had obviously been butchered and others appeared to have died in the impact. Others...others appear to have been vaporized right where they stood. They found you near your astropath, his throat was cut from ear to ear and your navigator was found with no head. You were covered in blood, Captain. The evidence against you is towering and your loss of memory does not aid you."

Anaru was in disbelief. He had no recollection of anything and no words to give his thoughts a voice. Only panic and confusion in his heart and eyes.

 "You are now on the lower decks of the Reconquista and will remain here until the Black Templars decide what to do with you. That is if they decide at all. The call for aid was also received by a small force of Dark Angels in this sector as well and they are en route as we speak. I will do my best to help you, as Colonel Ogotai has bid me to get to the truth of this matter. He felt that no soldier of his should be left alone to be interrogated by the Astartes alone."