Ranma1.2/Warhammer 40K/Sailor Moon/Tenchi Muyo Crossover Fanfiction
Fanfiction Disclaimer - I do not own Ranma 1/2, Warhammer 40K Sailor Moon, or Tenchi Muyo OVA. Ranma 1/2 belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. Warhammer 40 000 Universe belongs to Games Workshop. Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko Takeuchi. Tenchi Muyo OVA 'Ryo-Ohki' belongs to Kajishima Masaki. This story was created solely for non-profit entertainment and fanfiction purposes. All awesome quotations used belong to Games Workshop.
The Forgotten Primarch of Chaos
Chapter Twenty Six – Daemonic Legion (part two)
"You are not free whose liberty is won by the rigour of other, more righteous souls. You are merely protected. Your freedom is parasitic, you suck the honorable man dry and offer nothing in return. You who have enjoyed freedom, who have done nothing to earn it, your time has come. This time your will stand alone and fight for yourselves. Now your will pay for you freedom in the currency of honest toil and human blood.
Quote – Inquisitor Czevak(address to the Council of Ryanti)
Location: Tokyo, Tsukino's Residence.
"Nice to see you again . . . Puu-chan." The pink haired princess smiled as she stare down the energy projection.
Usa Serenity waited until the last possible moment to quickly side-stepped the glow sphere of energy. The sphere missed the princess by a few inches and continues on to smash into a mailbox. Usa took a moment to adjust her voluminous scarf and dark attire. She seemed to be more concern in her personal appearance such the norm for a person of her stature.
Usa smiled and casually scanned the immediate area even though she knew roughly where her attacker was at any given point but decided against taken any offensive actions for the time being. She was slightly disappointed that Puu-chan had not shown herself. She was really looking forward to meeting the equivalent of Puu-chan in this timeline, she was someone who was like family to her, a wise mentor and a close friend when she was growing up in her early years. That was until she decided tear out the beating heart out Puu-chan body when time came for her to take the mantle in which she was promised.
"Puu-chan," Usa said with a casual tone. Her Black Staff lowered towards the ground.
"You should not exist, you're existence is false," a voice echoed as if carried by the wind itself.
"It is so good for me to finally meet a familiar face, I was . . . " Usa paused to consider her next choice words, "I was beginning to get a little lonely for poor little me stuck here in the past."
As soon as those words escape her crimson lips, Usa Serenity with casual ease weave and dodge two more sphere of purple crackling energy. Puu-chan was evasive as ever she thought as dance away a third sphere of energy. Even though she was cloaked from view, Usa could easily sense her location but still made no attempt to launch any kind of offensive move.
"I beg to differ," Usa countered, wiggling her index finger and tutting subtly.
"You are merely a puppet of Chaos, a false image, you do not exist," the stern voice continued.
Usa feinted ignorance. Her mind games were pathetic as usual.
"As you can probably figured out, we had a little chat, me and my . . . mother." Usa said the last word with a forced effort. "Mother was a little surprise when I told her who I was and what I represented. I had thought you would had already told her about little old me . . . oops, silly me. As you can see Mother didn't taken it too well so I . . ."
Usa smirked as Puu-chan finally decides to drop her invisibility cloak. Looking at her wrist at imaginative watch, playtime was over. She drew in a unique invisible pattern with her left index finger. The invisibility cloak that Puu-chan would be rendered useless in a few seconds.
"Where is the Princess? What have you done with her? Tell me now or face the consequences!" Sailor Pluto readily herself another sphere of energy, she was going to take her out from close range. She was a threat and had to be dealt with immediately.
Usa simply looked over her slender shoulder and smirked. "Nice to SEE you again and . . . goodbye."
"Dead Scream." Sailor Pluto whispered under the breath as she realise the situation.
Usa evaded the attack without too much difficulty; she spun on her heel with grace and elegance of ballerina. Her pinkish eyes narrowed sharply as she raise her left clenched hand high above her head, the scarf around her neck fluttering around by a invisible whirlwind and slowly opened out her hand. Sailor Pluto's crimson eyes widened in shock and awe as she felt the incredible build up of energy. Secure and embedded in the palm of her left hand was the golden brass symbol of the dreaded nine pointed star of Chaos Undivided, sparking with light of an unearthly and unholy glow.
Once again, the wise and powerful Sailor Pluto realises her mistake and was about to pay the price.
Usa Serenity opened her mouth, and the whole area was filled with a thunderous ululation. The Black Staff in her other hand radiated and coarse up her arm and her slender body. Despite herself, Sailor Pluto felt her body cowering backwards in the face of that assault of sound. It was at that point that she realises she could not feel the lower part of her body was not responding as if they were petrified in stone. This Sorceress was indeed powerful.
The great dark Sorceress was speaking in the Dark Tongue of the Ruinous Powers, and was starting to overwhelm the green haired Senshi mental defences. There was wrath there, hatred, and frustration. Most of all there was a universal malice, focused now upon Sailor Pluto's body and soul.
"SZARCH' IL . . ."
Sailor Pluto raised her Garnet Rod, even in her Senshi's form it felt as if it weighed three times as much as usual. The screaming shout ebbed. The stillness it left behind seemed almost tangible. Usa was uttering a spell of devastating power. Sailor Pluto held her Garnet Rod in defiance much to the amusement to the dark Sorceress. With powerful thunderclap, the rune in her palm became a beacon of dark crackling energy. It pulsed once and then, in a torrent of brilliance, a bolt of raw evil energy sprang from it, sizzling as it ionised the air.
Sailor Pluto gritted her teeth and cursed herself for underestimating this bitch. Holding firm resolve stance as she moved her Garnet Rod to intercept the blast of malign force directly in front her face.
The Garnet Rod went spinning across the street but there was no sound of explosion. Usa stared at the huge crater that had been gouge out of the street directly in front of her. She then walked around the large crater where Puu-chan once stood and further down the street. Crouching down, Usa picked up the slightly twisted and charred Garnet Rod and threw her head back in sinister laughter.
"Puu-chan . . . nice try but I know you too well." Usa held the Garnet Rod for a moment, examining the cracked jewel and etched a small symbol with the tip of index finger nail.
She then hefted it upright and slammed the pointed end into the hard ground so that it stood upright. Taking a step back to admire her handiwork. Usa turned and started walking down the street without a care in the world. She would have to deal with those at later point in time but she knew that everything would fall into place just like Tzeentch had planned.
She then snapped her fingers together as if she had realised something.
Hmm . . . I wonder if my playmate still around. She thought wistfully.
Meanwhile . . .
" . . . And that's when Ryoko teleported out of nowhere and save us from certain death. Ryoko was mad as hell and she would not calm down until she totally kicked every single thug's ass in the room including the Mechs. I just had to concentrate on taking down the boss!"
Tenchi Masaki was explaining his adventures in great detail with quick hand gestures and funny impersonations, broken by regular loud gasps as he caught his breath.
A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Ranma Saotome's month. In these last few days, he was actually enjoying his training trip unlike the other times; there was no need to rush or a hint of utter desperation to complete the trip. Right now they have decide to settle for camp in a remote area and sitting around a makeshift campsite. As Ranma listened, he was glad that he wasn't the only one to experience adventures like the ones Tenchi was explaining. It was a relaxed atmosphere and Tenchi had been going non-stop all afternoon. Ranma was impressed by Tenchi's recollection and he recalled them with great enthusiasm and effort about his adventures with Ayeka, Ryoko, Sasami and the rest of the gang.
As Ranma listened to more and more of his adventure he realise that Tenchi was a lonely person even though he was always surrounded by girls, he never had a male friend to well, to bond with. Ranma had Ryoga and to a certain extent, Cypher. So instinctively Tenchi had to act like the noble gentleman most of the time, he always kept some of his thoughts to himself. Now that, he met Ranma, he was well, just being himself as a normal male boy, talking about what guys his age talk about even though Ranma wasn't exactly the ideal guy as he share similar experiences in Nerima. They both shared a common ideals and history. Tenchi was a natural storyteller and he was on a roll. Ranma believed them and never doubted any of the stories he told. Why would he lie and what would be the point of it if he did, Ranma thought.
The rolling pastures of the rural countryside were a colourful sight, the larger farmsteads were surrounded by their crop fields while in the smaller ones grew nothing but green grass. Needless to say, Tenchi had given a running commentary on everything of the area earlier in the day. In truth, Tenchi was doing all of this just to keep his weary mind off the tiredness in his legs. He was almost at his limit in terms of endurance. Ranma was blissfully unaware as he made the mistake of assuming he had the same endurance as Ryoga.
Fortunately Tenchi manage to convince Ranma of a good place to settle for camp otherwise they would have been walking throughout the night if he had not. Why he didn't tell him truth was because he wanted to show to him that he was not weak and that he could keep up. A crazy thought Tenchi had as they both had different strengths and weakness in themselves. Yet they were equally stubborn and determine to finish the training trip even if it killed him.
Ranma clapped a few times in appreciation. Tenchi took a few moments to regain his breath and composure. He was clearly proud of his achievements and adventures seeing that he had no one outside of the gang to actually boost to. Tenchi settled back in relaxed posture. He notices the flames were beginning to dry a little, the embers cooling.
"Ranma," Tenchi snapped a small branch in half and tossed into the fire. "Can I ask you something?"
"Huh, sure, Tenchi, ask away, we're friends aren't we," Ranma casually replied. He had a feeling what he was about to ask but instead decide to let him get it off his mind first.
Tenchi smiled at his response. He raised his hand and gestured. "Well, what are we going to do with her?"
Tenchi emphasise his point by indicating over his shoulder. Just a few feet behind him were a couple of bedrolls on the ground. One of them was clearly occupied by a humanoid shape. Judging by the sound emitting from the bedroom, it was clearly in a deep sleep. Ruffs of blond locks were sticking out of the bedroom.
"Hmm . . ." Ranma rubbed the back of his head.
Ranma was deeply concerned about their guest but feigned reassurance and calm just to put Tenchi at ease. A few hours ago, they came her laying face down in a shallow ditch, her condition and injuries would have been grave if it wasn't for the combined efforts of Tenchi's first aid skills and Ranma's skilled chi manipulation to ease the internal bleeding and pain.
It has taken a considerable amount of concentration and chi for them to put their guest in a stable condition which had surprised Ranma as normally his ability would normally heal a person in matter of moments unless . . .
"Ranma," Tenchi's voice snapped him out of trail of thoughts. "A yen for your thoughts."
Ranma blinked. "Oh, sorry, what was that?" Tenchi sighed.
"You kinda zoned out there for a moment, I think we should start to think hard on what to do with her. Someone gotta to searching for her, I bet. Also judging how we found her, we need to figure out how she ended up there in the first place." Tenchi explained.
Ranma nodded, scratching the base of his neck, "You're right but I have a feeling I have seen her before."
"Really," Tenchi asked. "I suppose we got something to work on, do you know her?" he asked.
The initial search revealed she had no identification or purse to indicate who she really was. They did search the immediate area around her for anything but found nothing. All they really found on her was a fancy looking fountain pen she was clutching in right hand like her life depended on it. Ranma manage to pry the pen out of her hand but nothing indicates anything new. He would just hold onto for now until she was awake and give it back to her.
Ranma shook his head, dashing Tenchi's initial hope. "Afraid not, she just seems familiar to me." Ranma rubbed his forehead to try to reawaken some of his memory.
Tenchi sighed, and leaned back in more relaxed stance. "Hey, you never know, we might have found a great heroine who has to endure the personal struggle of amnesia like those game with the main character who do not initially remember who they are."
Ranma raised an eyebrow and chuckled a little at the joke. "Nice one . . . it could be worse." The feeling in his heart was beginning to bubble.
"Oh," Tenchi picked on the topic. "What can be worse than heroine with amnesia?"
"She could be a magic girl," Ranma answered.
Tenchi laughed, "Seriously, a magic girl . . . wait, you are SERIOUS!" He notices the serious look in his eyes despite his calm and relaxed demeanour.
"I could be wrong," Ranma added. "We have fought demons and minions of Chaos so a Magic Girl isn't too far fetched."
Tenchi took a moment to think about seriously. "Huh, you think she might be a magic girl . . . I'm not totally clued up on the list of magic girls around here perhaps Sasami might know more about it." Ranma raise an eyebrow.
"And, yes, she will know about it, just ask her. She got like magazines and pictures of this type." Tenchi added with a hint of humour and smirk.
What he didn't tell him was that she would bound to ask her the reason why he was inquiring. He was just going to sit back and watch the fireworks if Ranma puts his foot in it. He already learnt his lesson awhile back, chalking it up to a learning experience.
Ranma noted the small fact about her and little suspicious of his smirk. "Right . . . err . . . that's interesting to know."
Ranma was about to ask when they heard the sound of someone stirring. Both of them quickly made their way over to their guest.
Tenchi was the first there and reached out and gently taps her on the shoulder. She stirred a bit but made no attempt to move. Ranma shrugged his shoulder and gesture to do it again. Tenchi nodded and repeated it again and the girl rolled onto her back. Slowly but surely she fluttered her eyes as if to wake up from a deep slumber like sleeping beauty. It just happens that Ranma was the first thing she happened to see. Tenchi just slapped his hand over his face, not believing what he was seeing. The black haired martial artist couldn't help but stare into her deep blue eyes as if a connection was made. She was staring right back at him as if signs of recognition appeared. The whole moment seemed to last forever that is until Tenchi interrupted them and nudging Ranma out of the way so that he was in her line of sight.
"Miss, how are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere?" Tenchi asked, readily the first aid kit in his hands.
The blond haired girl hesitated for a moment before shaking her head slightly much to relief of Tenchi.
Ranma was as much as relieved as he was. Now that the important question was answered, he pressed on. He need to first out how she got and assess the situation. Now that she was awake, Ranma was able to get a clearer reading of her aura, the point
"Miss, have we ever met?" Ranma asked. Tenchi shot him a look and elbowed him in the side. "Ranma, now isn't the time to start hitting on her."
Ranma ignored him and focus his attention to her. "Miss, please."
The girl seems to try to recall but eventually shook her head. "See, Ranma. Is your curiosity satisfied now?" Tenchi interrupted as the martial artist nodded quietly in response.
"Miss, err . . . do you know what happened to you or how you ended up here?" Tenchi took a more direct approach as series of questions were directed at her. Ranma remained quiet as he led Tenchi handle the situation.
The girl shook her head. For some strange reason, Ranma seemed to notice she was looking at him at every question before shaking her head. Tenchi sighed, as he was getting nowhere. He was about to ask her who she was when Ranma beat him to the question.
The girl clutched her head in the palms of her hands as sudden flash of pain was registered in deep recesses of her mind. Ranma and Tenchi jerked closer to her in concern. The moment passed as the pain dispersed. She looked up at them with an unease smile.
"I don't know," she finally spoke up. "I can't remember anything about who I am except . . ."
"Except what?" Ranma inquired as the feeling he was getting earlier suddenly exploded.
She hesitated as if she was unsure about her answer but looked at Ranma, feeling a little confident. "My name is . . . Serenity."
"Huh, your name is Serenity and you have complete memory loss. So, like I said, we just happened to pick up a beautiful heroine with total amnesia like in those games, what are the chances of that, " Tenchi joked but a little less enthusiasm than his earlier comment.
The girl looked puzzled but was feeling a little weak. "Your name?" she whispered.
Sensing her weak constitution Ranma eased her back down on the bedroll. "Sleep for now, don't worry, nothing going to hurt you while we are here," he reassured in soft tone. "It's Ranma." she nodded weakly.
He shot his friend a quick glance and turned his attention back to the girl whom by now had fallen asleep.
Tenchi nodded and got up and walked towards the fire and chucked a few more branches into the fire. He made sure she was comfortable as possible considering the resources they had. Tenchi waved over to Ranma to come over here. As he was walking toward him, he could help feel there was more to this girl that she letting on. He had met her before and recently, he was sure about that but there was something of a mental block that was preventing him from thinking clearly.
"So . . .Ranma, what now?" Tenchi asked as the martial artist joined him at the campfire.
Ranma shrugged his shoulders. "We can't leave her here that's for sure. She needs medical attention as soon as possible. I'm afraid we need to end the training trip a little earlier than expected." Tenchi grinned for a number of reasons.
"Well, that can be arranged, her safety should be our top priority. Everything sorted." Tenchi reached for small bucket of water he gathered earlier from a nearby stream.
"Huh, what do you mean?" Ranma inquired. He happened to notice there was light of confident in his eyes. The Juraian Prince had the upper hand on what was going on. In his hand was a small device.
Tenchi tipped the contents over the fire, extinguishing the flames and revealing the device to be some sort of GPS. "You see, I already sent word of what going on and, right about . . . 3 . . . 2 . . ."
He was slightly puzzled until he heard a very familiar sound that sent the hairs on the back of his neck to tingle. The sound would have struck fear in to his soul but Ranma with the help of Felix was able to condition the effect to a minimal. Two large circular beams of incandescent light appeared over them and the sleeping girl. Tenchi was already gathering his stuff and making sure the camp was cleared.
"Wait, when did you . . ." Ranma didn't have the chance to finish his sentence when Tenchi hurriedly threw over to him a large backpack.
There was sudden burst of more light and the whole campsite disappeared, leaving a large clearing.
Somewhere in rural countryside of Japan, Ryoga Hibiki sighed.
In his hands was a large circular mirror, which he borrowed from nearby dresser in the room where he was staying. He was pulling his black fringe a bit. He was no longer wearing his black and yellow bandanna. His trademark canine fangs that he bore was sharper and longer, not like a vampire but something more feral and wild like those predators he saw on those wildlife programmes on TV. Also his hair was beginning to grow longer and thicker. He was also beginning to grow rugged hair chest hair. The reason for his slight depression was because his appearance was changing for some strange reason and he didn't even know why or how.
Ryoga twisted his face in frustration. The worst part of these changes was the constant nightmares he had to endure every night. The nightmares were become more twisted, complicated and wild but some reason he was not afraid it. It was just proving to be irritating and somewhat annoying. He was pretty sure these visions were telling him something but can't fathom what they were telling him or the meaning behind it. Since then his life has been threatened by mortals, daemons, and warriors of chaos. Ryoga sighed again; it was going to get worse. He had no clue on what the true son of Russ meant or the Day of Reckoning was but he pretty sure it has something to do Ranma Saotome. Chaos always seems to follow no matter how much he tried to shake it off or rid of it, it would always be part of him.
Ryoga shook his head, dispelling the thoughts from his mind lest he gets more depressed. He thought turned to where he was staying and most importantly the girl who was kind enough to take him in. It has been a few days since arriving here in a state of unconscious and was now making a full recovery. Putting down the mirror, he surveyed the area around him. It was a large rural farm with a large outbuilding and a traditional style house and Dojo. What makes the farm stand out from the usual farms he happened to come across the various shapes and sizes of pigs . . . fighting each other in sumo-type fighting. From what he could tell, they had the right stuff, using their weight and stance to counter balance and unhinge their opponents from sheer prowess, power and momentum.
Ryoga heard a loud grunt followed by heavy nudge that would have knocked over a normal human but not Ryoga. He was like an unmoveable object. Crossing his arms across his chest, Ryoga turned and smirked.
"Katsunishiki." He was facing down a massive white pig.
The pig grunted in acknowledgement. Ryoga simply cracked his knuckles. "Let's battle!"
Katsunishiki grunted loudly again and charged. Ryoga matched the sumo-pig in speed and stance.
As Ryoga and Champion Pig fought, a crowd of the local villagers would appeared and cheer. Each morning, more to take his mind off his nightmares and depression than anything else, he exercised, wrestling with the strongest sumo pigs on the farm. Ryoga's opponent, Katsunishiki was one of the best in the country than was until Ryoga defeated the pig. These early morning fights become something of a regular fixture. Young men and women would gather round and watch as the two fought each other. Ryoga had already fought every sumo pig on the farm and the local fighters in nearby regions. Since then many more fighters would appear and sought out to see who could be the first to defeat Ryoga in unarmed combat. Few of the opponents whom he faced he wrestled could only contest with him for more than a half a minute.
Standing outside the main Dojo, watching the fight with a content and relaxed smile was a young woman in a light sundress. Ever since he had defeated her champion pig, Katsunishiki, she had fallen in love with him and since his absence has been longing for him to see him again. She was even considering packing up and selling the Dojo and farm in order to pursue him. Her grandfather had given them his blessing to marry.
As she watches the fight, a couple of thoughts went through her mind. She knew that once Ryoga had made a full recovery. He would leave and quite possibly without an answer to a certain question she desperately wanted him to answer. He had still yet to give her a solid answer. Also her beloved has grown to be more handsome than ever, there was certain wildness and feral in his appearance which was cause her heart to flutter when she catches him looking at her.
She smiled and clasp her hands together in glee when she saw Ryoga landing the finishing blow sent the champion pig spawning across the ground. He was indeed a worthy person. She made up her mind. She was determining to change his stance on their personal arrangement.
She had a plan and turned to walk back inside. Ryoga was definitely in for a surprise.
Ryoga froze on the spot after he felt something akin to the cold hand of death touching his soul.
Location: Nemesis, Daemon Fortress.
Angron, the Prince of Blood, Daemon Primarch of the Khorne World Eaters Legion had been forced to vent his raging fury on a dozen of weak minded Chaos Cultists who had the misfortune to be near at hand. None of the Daemon Bloodletters had commented on the fact that, briefly, there have been unusually generous proportions of meat in their meals. Time was passing and Angron have received no word from his reluctant Champion of Khorne and his warbands consisting of World Eaters Chaos Space Marines. Kharn and his Khorne Berzerker were the only group who defied M'Kachan's orders to withdraw. Angron shook his great head like a baited bear, furious with the Daemon Prince M'Kachan recent decisions and his unwillingness to commit to battle.
Angron stood up and stomped out of his great hall, a dozen Daemon Bloodletters falling in automatically behind him in complete silence. An unusual sight to behold. The Bloodletter of Khorne is a wild uncontrollable beast dedicated to slaughter and battle that are well known for their battle cries and howls of victories. It was clear indication of Angron's power and total control over his minions of Chaos.
He led his minions up a huge spawning flight of stairs, which led to the highest vantage point of the citadel. He had come here solely because the chamber had a vast window, stretching from floor to ceiling that would give him a clear view of the hellish twisted landscape of the tortured Daemon world. Also there a huge monument of taken skulls purely dedicated to the Blood God Khorne. As Angron approach the window and looked down below on the surface, he was greeted with the sight of a massive gathering of the minions of Chaos, which would soon form the creation of a Daemonic World Army.
Hundreds of mortal warriors had gathered and rally to the call of the Chaos Gods. Chaos warriors were men who have abandoned their home world and race, and thrown in their lot with Chaos. Men who have chosen a life of bloodshed and destruction in return for a fleeting chance to gain the favour of the Chaos Gods. Many of the warriors who answered the call came in large warbands and to do battle in praise of their patron Chaos God. Amongst the Warriors gathered down below were massive packs of ferocious Beastmen that revel in destruction and carnage. The mortal Chaos warriors are those who willingly flock to fight alongside the forces of Chaos. These foul spawns of Chaos are creatures so twisted by their mutations that it is impossible to tell whether their forbears were men or beast to start with. Creatures of all shapes and sizes have rallied to the call of Chaos including horribly mutated bull headed Minotaurs and large hideousness bestial Trolls. These large foul creatures are powerful creations with their long gangling limbs and damp hides. These minions of Chaos usually form the bulk of the Daemonic Legion.
The Daemon Primarch looked out and grunted with satisfaction. These minions were simply flesh meat for meat grinder were his lines of thoughts, nothing more, nothing less. These foolish minions were just canon fodder on the upcoming battles. His Khorne Daemons and Khorne Berzerkers of the World Eaters Legion would form his personal guard and the vanguard of the Daemonic Legion.
As he looked out, something strange caught his keen eyes and looked at it with total disgust. Towards the east, high above the citadel walls towered a gigantic edifice; at the top was a platform that could be clearly seen from anywhere for hundreds of miles. The construction of such a monstrous sight was under the watchful eye of the Daemon Prince N'Kari who have taken the opportunity to create a monument as soon as he heard that Angron was building a monument to his Patron God in the western tower of the Daemonic Citadel.
Ladders led up the gantry from the ground to this platform which was laden with bizarre mechanical device. Angron could only guess what purpose it served but it was obvious even at a causal glance that those purposes must be obscene for a Daemon. There were gleaming knives and saws, coils of rope, gold and silver skull shaped braziers already burning and whips with metal studded lashes. Hundred of willing Chaos Cultists were slaughtered in order to complete the blood purification ritual that Slaanesh demands to made if it was to gain his attention at the monument.
Angron's attention was shifted when he sensed someone approach. He turned to face the newcomer to his inner sanctum in one swift motion. A single Khorne Berzerker made his appearance known to the Daemon Primarch. The flashes of his death mask and the taken skulls on his belt proclaiming his seniority within the World Eaters Legion. He walked with confident arrogance to stand before his Daemon Primarch.
"The preparation are going smoothly, sire." The lone Khorne Berzerker said without bowing deeply or showing signs of respect. "The World Eaters Legion are at you're disposal, sire. We await only your command."
Angron grinned; revealing his perfect set of teeth at the display of disrespect and arrogance this lone Khorne Berzerker had showed. He wanted warriors who would fight to death and kill without question. The Chaos Space Marines of the World Eaters Legion were fine examples he would look for in battle and would sometimes accept challenges. Unfortunately some of his most promising warriors were not alive due to them not surviving the challenge. He despised those who would beg and crawl in order to appease their superiors.
"What news from Perturabo? Has he granted my request?" Angron demanded from the lone Berzerker.
The lone Berzerker shook his head. "No communication have been received for the past days."
"That is unfortunate . . .but there is still time for him to make his decision." Angron said.
"Is there anything else, sire?" The Berzerker demanded.
Making a mental note those Khorne Bloodletters currently surrounded him. All the Daemons had the same identical expression of them wanted to kick his ass just for fun or did they sensed something much deeper, he wasn't sure still . . .
"Begone!" Angron dismissed the Berzerker to leave him with his thoughts.
Angron grinned and turned his attention back at the window. With the Daemonic army gathering in numbers and strength. Nothing could stop him now. He smiled in his invincibility and anticipation of battle.
Meanwhile a crimson ornate Khorne Berzerker walked away from the Khorne monument hall and down the spiralling steps. He was worried, not for his future, he had already plans in motion that would ensure that but for Angron and the forces of Khorne that Angron represented in the alliance. The Berzerker was there during the first battle for Armageddon and remembered how the Prince of Blood had total victory within his grasp and then threw away in moment of madness. The Berzerker was concerned as Angron was showing the same over confidence that he showed during his final hours. He couldn't help but shake off the feeling that history was about to repeat.
"Foolish, absolutely foolish. He has no ideal what he is getting himself into." The Berzerker cursed.
His pace quickened, as he needed to get down to business on the other side of the citadel.
He shrugged again and this time the gesture was one of dismissal. There was nothing he could do to change Angron's mind. If he had his voiced his caution earlier; Angron would simply strike him down. Reasonable logic and understanding were never his strong points. As soon as he reach the bottom of the flight of steps. The Berzerker immediately teleported to secretive and secure location.
With a whirl of brilliant colours, the lone Berzerker quickly found himself in a long grey hall. The Chaos Space Marine guess he would close to the entrance of the Chaos Temple. He walked along the decorative hallway he glanced at ahead at the far end; he could see a door engraved with the chaos symbol of Slaanesh.
"Ah, home at last . . ." He said.
The Berzerker pushed the doors wide open and enter the sanctum of Slaanesh and within seconds he was stuck down in a vivid pink light emitting from the lavish jewelled high ceiling.
Instantly a horrific transformation took hold of the Chaos Space Marines. The Berzerker's body began to swell rapidly, fur covered flesh bursting through the plasteel plates, ripping the armour apart. His arms were flung outwards by a power spasm and lengthened with an audible strengthening sound. The symbol of Khorne melted away and replaced with another ruinous icon of Chaos. His whole body writhed and twisted as his skeleton and internal organs reorganised themselves from within.
The horrific transformation only lasts a few moments as the Chaos Space Marine body was altered in ways complete unimaginable. His entire body was bedecked with gorgeous jewels, and delicate coloured silks overlays its twisted hideous form. Its arms are now long chitinous claws and its head was no longer human shaped but bestial horned and fanged.
A terrible smiled crossed his hideous face.
Elsewhere, Foulspawn, the Disease King, the Daemon Prince of Nurgle waddled and slithered his bloated and pus ridden mass along the many gloomy hallways towards the Antechamber of the Forbidden Souls where he would be meeting up with the representative of the Ruinous Powers. The Antechamber was located on the lowest floor of the Citadel.
Foulspawn was annoyed. Annoyed at M'Kachan for many reasons. He felt that he could not trust his eternal enemy or any of the others. He had to make sure that the interests of Nurgle were included in the further plans that the crafty Daemon would come up with.
The bloated Daemon Prince pressed on through the hallway where a minor creature of darkness was unfortunate enough to be coming in the opposite direction. Unfortunate because Foulspawn was rapaciously hungry. Without pausing in his momentum, the Daemon Prince seized the hapless creature with his very long forked tongue, paralysing the creature before it had the chance to resist or scream. With a sickening crunch, dark blood sprayed everywhere. The blood also sprayed onto the armour of a Chaos Space Marine who was walking beside the Daemon Prince. The Marine was unconcerned or did not care.
The Chaos Space Marine was one of Grand Father Nurgle favoured Chosen. A Plague Marine Champion of the Death Guard. He was a grotesque warrior and was fully encased in ancient bulky Dreadnought armour, which had long fuse with his flesh and bone many centuries ago due to the mixed blessing of Nurgle Rot. The Mark of Nurgle and Legion insignia of the Death Guard could just been seen across his chest and shoulder pads. Sickly free n fluids leaked out from every joint and seal of his armour. His flesh pulses with corruption and his innards spill through lesions in his putrid skin. His body ooze with sickly slime.
The Foulspawn crunched and chewed as bits and pieces of cracked bone and raw flesh dropped on the granite floor, which was quickly picked up by scurrying tiny monsters. These little creatures cackled and squabbled, moving in and around the Daemon Prince over the little scraps of food. Each of these creatures was horrid Daemons, small but malevolent monsters that fed upon corruption and chaos. These creatures are known as Nurglings. These creatures would normally appeared around Greater Daemons or high level Daemons of Nurgle such as Foulspawn where they would scurry and suck at on the boils for their nourishment, nestling within his spilling entrails for succour.
"Haag," Foulspawn spat out fragmented shards of bone at the warrior's boots.
The Plague Marine stopped and tilted his head slightly to meet the demon gaze of the Foulspawn. A couple of Nurglings were scurrying around his feet now licking the slime and blood that dripped down. His ornamental helmet and re-breather hid the bemused look at the Daemon Prince.
"What is it, Great Unclean One," the Plague Marine said in a low slurred voice.
"How do our plans fare?" Foulspawn inquired.
The Plague Marine stood silent and uttered nothing. Nothing in the universe could scared or intimidated him as he was one the damned and disease. Not even the powerful and horrifying appearance of a twenty feet tall Daemon Prince of Nurgle. The Daemon Prince leaned forward to wards him. His face projecting a massive jaw in which were set knife sharp teeth longer than a man's hand. His incongruously pink tongue flickered in and out like that of a serpent.
"Speak. Haag!" Foulspawn said impatiently.
"There is nothing to worry about," The Chaos Space Marine said and decided to add a little bit more to his answer, noticing the air was getting a little thicker.
"Soon, I will subject the Earth to the rule of Chaos, all in the name of the Grand Father, Nurgle. In the summer, there will be food aplenty for your armies to feed on. After, that is, we have had our fill of the two legged meat." Foulspawn frown slowly turned into a grin.
"Great Unclean One, we have no need to worry about numbers. The Plague Marines of the Death Guard are well trained and gifted by the Grand Father Nurgle as Chaos Chosen. It is a question of fulfilling you're end of the bargain." Haag said.
The Death Guard believed that victory came through sheer relentlessness. Their weapons, while not ornate, functioned without flaw. They did not manoeuvre in fanciful patterns to confuse the enemy, instead standing their ground and waiting for the enemy assaults to falter before striking back with fatal force. Unfortunately due to organisation structure and nature of the Nurgle blessing, they severely lack mechanical vehicles such as tanks or specialised weapons in their forces.
Foulspawn turned his bulk around to face the Chaos Champion of Nurgle. "As long as Grand Father Nurgle still bless your troops, the daemonic support will be there when the times comes. The Plaguebearers will join your men to form the vanguard of your assault. The vast body of your assault will emerge when the winds of pestilence and decay spread across the lands. The Plague Zombies are unarmed, but we can afford to lose a thousand for every winged warrior that dies. Even if it's a question of the last of the Plague Zombies killing the last of them, we can always create more." Foulspawn cackled loudly.
"Great Unclean One," Haag said, "there is the problem with their leader if we do press on with the assault. Could he kill you? There has been rumours about their leader's immeasurable powers that could destroy you."
"Nothing can kill me." Foulspawn said calmly.
"Nothing?" His voice was devoid of all emotion.
"Nothing at all."
Haag nodded. He had something to say but decide it wouldn't be prudent to mention it to the Plague Prince of Nurgle. He tended to be in a better mood and less hungry when he wasn't angered.
"I see . . . Will you be joining the assault?" asked Haag.
"Of course, when the time is right, I will slew their leader with my plague sword. You are personally responsible to make sure you slain every single warrior of the Phoenix."
"It shall be done, Great Unclean One." Haag replied, standing unflinching and unafraid of the terrible presence and aura of the Daemon Prince of Nurgle. His very image could drive a mortal man insane whilst the very stench could kill in matter of seconds.
"Begone before you annoy me, Haag!" Foulspawn exclaimed, feeling that he had answered enough questions today. His attention span was limited and his patience was wearing thin. His hunger grew without any end of stopping.
'The Traveller was correct after all' thought Haag on the Daemon Prince's answer.
He turned and marched down the corridor leaving the Daemon Prince to his devices. The Death Guard would follow the orders as long as it suited them. There were currently awaiting the Chaos Gate to open to allow the majority of his Death Guard Chaos Space Marines in the material realm. Foulspawn moved along the corridor.
The Daemon Prince of Nurgle smirked. Another unfortunate Daemon happens to be coming in from the opposite direction.
Meanwhile in the heart of the citadel, M'Kachan made attempt to disguise his displeasure at the gathering of chaos space marines. One of the many reasons why these warriors irritated him was these warriors did not appear to worship any of the four ruinous powers of chaos. These warriors that stood before him were not like the fanatical bloodthirsty Khorne Berserker of the World Eaters legion or the bloated rotting plague warriors of the Death Guard. The stoic and heavy decorated and ornamented warriors were very reluctant to enter into daemonic pacts with any of the ruinous powers of Chaos.
"Welcome to my humble domain, Night Lords," M'Kachan rose from his throne and walked down the short flight of steps with open arms. He smiled broadly and bowed with mock flourish. The mere sight of a Lord of Change in all his glory defies mortal comprehension.
The Night Lords did not cower or flinch at the sight. M'Kachan was slightly impressed.
"I am glad you have accepted my invitation," M'Kachan began.
The cynical, hard bitten and frightening ruthless chaos space marines of the Night Lords Legion simultaneously raised their heavy-duty archaic bolters and pinpointed them at the Daemon Prince. Their distrust in chaos and their sorcery was deep rooted as to their experience they could not be trust or relied on in their battle plans. The Night Lords tactics were based on terror and fear. These warriors simply fight for the pleasure of fighting, and the material rewards it can bring. Darkness is their ally and they ruthlessly use their innate abilities to give themselves an advantage over their enemies. The Night Lords space marines wore armour shaped and warped to project an imagery of death and destruction, which used by professional, can be more effective than a bolter or a chainsword ever could. Above their helmets jutted vanes like axe blades. Most of them sported blasphemous totems that would have wrenched at the minds of a devout space marine of the Adeptus Astartes. Each Night Lords were individually totem was custom and fashioned in the mockery of honour, mementoes of foul victories over their former battle brothers.
"Daemon! We have not accepted anything!" someone bellowed from among the group of Night Lords space marines. His voice was ancient and broke no compromise in his statement.
M'Kachan stopped and saw their warriors departing aside as a massive warrior of darkness stepped in to fill the empty space. Curling horns and cruel spikes adorned the warrior's heavy armour and ceramite shoulder pads. In his right hand, the warrior wielded a large robust combi-bolter meltagun. In the other hand was a large chainsword. The warrior wore a large winged skull crest helmet, which was clearly distinguishable from the other chaos space marines. The Night Lords around this massive warrior shuffled around him in a loose defensive circle.
The chaos warrior was clearly the leader of the group stood in silence as he glared at the daemon prince. M'Kachan feinted mock surprise.
"You must be Malloc," M'Kachan crossed his arms across his chest. The daemon prince gazed at the Chaos Lord that is said to penetrate the very depth of a man's soul.
"Lord Malloc of the Night Lords, Vulture of Death, Master of Darkness," the chaos warrior announced.
"My apologies, Lord Malloc, I mean no disrespect," M'Kachan bowed slightly in mock fashion. "Now about our agreement."
"We made NO agreement," Malloc retorted. "The Night Lords will make no deal with the likes of you and you're kind."
M'Kachan arched an eyebrow. "So why are you here? Isn't this the reason why we are all gathered here in my sanctum? My master demands his ideals are carried out and with you're valiant warriors on our side; we would stand a much greater chance of those ideals being achieved. A mutual benefits for both parties I would like to say, Lord Malloc."
"Do not think to appeal to my warrior's vanity, daemon! I do not see the point of the Night Lords joining you're petty crusade, therefore we will not from a pact with you or your master."
"Hmm, I fail to understand you're narrow minded logic here if you did not intend to join my 'petty' crusade then why have you decided to grace your presence here at my personal invitation. You could have not turn up at all so I am interested in your reasons why you are really here if not for our agreement. Care to share your thoughts for being here if you are unwilling to form a pact with us?"
"Because I am Malloc of the Night Lords, I do answer to you nor you're minions, not even you're dark master! I'll answer to no one!" Malloc exclaimed, trying to stamp his authority in the discussion. M'Kachan was not impressed or intimated by his presence but decide to play a little longer on this game.
Malloc stepped forward and raised his combi- weapon dangerous at the daemon prince. M'Kachan smirked at the petty attempt at intimidation. It was near impossible to harm him with mortal weapons. There was a chance it could hurt him. To honest he was not in mood to fight and decided to take a more diplomatic stance to the situation.
"I am here to learn one thing from you, daemon!" Malloc said. His thick gauntlet hand gripped tightly around his barbed chain sword.
"My source inform me you have located the forgotten Primarch."
"Forgotten Primarch?" M'Kachan acted surprised. "I don't know what you mean, Lord Malloc. You never know how reliable these sources are these days, perhaps you heard from listening to imperial rambles in some backwater world."
"Do not play stupid with me or suffer the consequences, daemon!" My sources inform me that you have located him. I want to know where he is?"
M'Kachan raised his index finger to his mouth and pondered on something. "Wait . . . you said source not sources, I assume you got your information from one person. I have a fairly good idea who would have known something about this . . . Konrad Curze."
Malloc grinned in self-satisfaction. "From our dark visage father . . . Night Haunter himself! He has foreseen this and you have just confirmed this."
M'Kachan grinned as something began to form in his twisted mind. Konrad Curze aka. Night Haunter, the Primarch of the Night Lords is believed to have only been able to see the darkness path of all possible futures, a terrible curse, and the visions tended to be self-fulfilling. Is said that he has the same powers of foresight and vision, as Sanguinius of the Blood Angels but that was unconfirmed. If Night Haunter was able to predict his death then perhaps he had seen something about this that M'Kachan did not. It was all an intriguing thought to him.
"So you seek the forgotten Primarch as instruct by your Primarch. What business do you want with him?"
"Our business are our own, none of yours, daemon!" Malloc replied sharply.
"I see . . . you must understand the price for this knowledge is high."
The Night Lords Chaos Space Marines felt the atmosphere thicken with tension that could erupt at any time. The Daemon Prince of Tzeentch was a fearsome opponent. It's cunning and deception knew no bounds both off and on the battlefield. M'Kachan's hawkish smile slowly turned into a threatening grin. His stark glower, burning into the Malloc's soul with razor malevolence. There was a moment in which the Night Lords thought the Daemon would strike down their Chaos Lord for defiance and arrogance. Their archaic bolters aimed squarely at M'Kachan. The tension between the two individuals grew rapidly. The strike never happened. M'Kachan arrogant expression never faded as he seemed to back down from the confrontation.
"Very well, Chaos Lord, have it you're own way." M'Kachan turned around and started walking up towards his throne. "A compromise."
Chaos Lord Malloc grimace at the thought of making a deal with the Daemon Prince of Tzeentch. Centuries of experiences fighting in the Eye of Terror have told him to be wary of making any deals or pacts with the pawns of the Chaos Gods. His gut wanted to blast the inferno beast back to where it came from but his experience told him too not to bother with his kind and leave the table. Yet the message from Night Haunter, the cursed Primarch overruled both his gut and experience. The hardened stare from M'Kachan's soulless eyes informed him that he wasn't going to give anything on his behalf for free.
"Very well, Daemon!" Malloc said in acidic tone. "A compromise, it is."
M'Kachan clasped the palms of his clawed hands together. A gleeful smirk appeared as he levelled his gaze at his audience. "Ah, now we are getting somewhere. I see you're wisdom has not abandoned you. Lord Malloc."
"I will tell you everything you should need to know but in return . . ." M'Kachan left the sentence hanging.
Malloc grunted in annoyance. "Speak, Daemon of you're demands!" The tension between the two was reaching critical levels and all it would take was a spark.
"Two conditions. First . . . there is someone I want you to take in you're retinue. Consider IT as my chosen representative and will relay my specific orders to you and report of any failures or successes you might achieve on Earth.
"And the second?"
M'Kachan grinned like the devil itself. "In due time, Lord Malloc of the Night Lords. In due time . . ." His mocking laughter echoed through the corridors of the Citadel.
Afterwards . . .
On a cold dark night there was activity on the rocky surface of Nemesis. Just outside the fortifications of the Chaos Citadel, a massive Chaos Space Marine was standing high above rocky ridge overlooking the constructed dimensional Chaos Portal that linked the Daemon World Nemesis and the young planet Earth. In the dim light, it may have looked as if he was holding a conversation with himself which was a common sight amongst those of the damned but the second voice was unmistakable distinctive to those acquainted with Night Lord Malloc.
Chaos Lord Malloc looked down at his Lieutenant, and a slow smirk spread across his thin lips. His eyes shone with wicked excitement and cackled dryly.
"Yes," he hissed. "An excellent plan. And you will lead this raid personally, Azysteen?"
The Chaos Lieutenant raised his gauntlet fist and thumped against his chest twice to show his pride and Malloc's acknowledgement. Lieutenant Azysteen was roughly the same height as Malloc but unlike him, he had undergone extensive surgery and bionic augmentative on his face and upper body. He still wore the heretic dark-blue power armour with gold trimming like those in the Night Lords Sect but was oddly robotic like those from the Thousand Son Legion due to his augmentative. His vox box emitted a disturbingly soft tone of voice when he talked. Normally Azysteen would not stand out amongst his heretic brothers or be in a position of power and stature if it was not for his sheer presence that demanded respect and fear. A pure cold-hearted killing machine that took pleasure in killing and the fear it produced.
"Of course, My Lord," Azysteen's voice was low and lacked any hint of emotion.
Chaos Lord Malloc grinned. He could trust Azysteen, however. He was a double-edged sword. As one of his trusted aides, he had served him well. Unfortunately there was a danger, in that all Night Lords Chaos Space Marines strive to obtain through any means necessary . . . power and wealth.
Malloc had no doubt in his mind, the moment he showed weakness or indecisiveness, Azysteen would be the first one to plunge the knife into his heart and took overt he command of the Night Lords Sect. Malloc was confident enough to ensure it would never happen.
Azysteen was an ambitious man and upon hearing the news that they would be taking part in the invasion. Azysteen had busied himself in preparing plans for the Night Lords involvement. Azysteen revelled in the prospect of strategy and battle especially upon hearing the news that a new Primarch was discovered. In Malloc's opinion, Azysteen was an ugly creature, with rough, pitted skin against his dull heavy metallic looking augmentative made him look sickly and pale, but his sly cunning intelligence along with square hewn features and heavy muscles commanded respect. The cold blackness in his right eye promise untold death. His strength and weapon skills were considerable. His strategies in shock and fear were unmatched. And he knew it.
A dangerous foe but a useful tool thought Malloc.
"I thought I would also take a Obliterator Sect Cult and two units of Winged Chaos Raptors and let them loose on the local population just to frighten any resistance who have never heard of Malloc of the Night Lords." Azysteen's voice was slow and precise.
Chaos Lord Malloc smiled again as Azysteen mentioned the Obliterator and Raptors. His Lieutenant had made his plan well. It was a stroke of genius. The Obliterates Cult was Chaos Space Marines who have dwelt too long in the Eye of Terror and have contracted a contagion that sears their flesh and their armour. They have become one entity, armour and marine merged as one into hulking, weirdly baroque leviathans able to reshape their form and lay down a barrage of firepower by themselves. The Raptors were a key element in Azysteen shock tactics, an essential component in hit and run element of his plan.
"As a last resort, Azysteen?" Malloc queried. The Chaos Lieutenant nodded solemnly.
"Excellent," Malloc grinned and looked down below at the Chaos Portal. "Soon the gate will open."
Banners with devotional heraldry of the Night Lords and Malloc Symbol of Power were raised high and tainted standards that proclaimed the glory of Chaos in its most raw, visceral aspect were planted in the soil. He listened, the ululating shrieks of the terrifying war engines echoed towards the landscape.
"My Lord, someone approaches us," Azysteen said.
Malloc turned to face his Chaos Lieutenant with a raised eyebrow. Azysteen simply gestured in the general direction where two strangers were approaching. Night Lords Chaos Space Marines immediately surrounded the pair before allowing them to approach their lord. Malloc dismissed his Chaos Lieutenant who turned and walked down the ridge, pasting the two figures without pausing or making eye contact with them. Malloc walked towards them to meet them halfway where a burly, unshaven old man wearing a dried human skinned coat straining to retain his power armour considerable bulk.
"Bile, the gene master of clones," Malloc glare sharply at the ageing scientist.
Fabius Bile was one of the sought after man in the Eye of Terror because of his ability to replenish the ranks of the traitorous legions with genetically enhanced warriors. He had travelled throughout the region, working on his own agendas and searching out suitable recruits for his experiments. Bile's experiments in the unlocking the secrets of the Primarchs left many unfortunate warriors hideously deformed as limbs and organs were surgically or genetically altered from one body to another. Because very few experiments were ever successful, the results were pitiful creature living with the agonies of unhealed wounds and permanently broken bones. A lot of them were driven mad, screaming constantly for their lives to be ended. Usually their wishes were granted since their incessant howls disturbed Bile's concentration.
But Azysteen had come up with a perfect use for these mutated wretches. Bile had agreed to use his failed experiments on the conditions that they would take suitable human recruits displaying any abnormalities from the local population. Malloc didn't know the reason why nor did he care. He accepted Bile condition. Azysteen would use these mutated wretches on the local population, to be displayed to the humans as a terrible warning of Night Lords terror and power.
Bile had a smug look on his face which Malloc immediately took a disliking to and would have killed him now and there if it were not for his agreement with him with the despicable creatures and new recruits to his own forces. Malloc withheld his opinion as he finally notices the person standing next to Fabius Bile. The person was feminine in appearance, wearing a modified suit of power armour specifically designed to accommodate a large degree of flexibility and movement similar to the armour worn by the Sisters of Battle Chapter. Upon closer inspection, the armour was indeed savaged from Sister of Battle sect but had been clearly altered in the ways of Chaos. She had a black body gloves and a full facial mask to hide her facial features. She was carrying dozens of blades around her waist and right thigh. A black sword was sheathed around her waist too. The armour was clearly tainted with ritual marking and symbols of Chaos Undivided inscribed. There were no symbols of any of the major ruinous powers of Chaos. The person was completely still and silent as Fabius Bile spoke up.
"Lord Malloc," Bile grinned.
"Is this the IT that M'Kachan spoken of?" Malloc inquired.
"It is, and I would like to say . . . she is a impressive specimen from that backwater world." Bile gave a slight gesture which the mysterious female obeyed and moved forwards a few steps.
"She smells of change. I like that. What did you call her?"
"Onyx," Bile replied.
"Black Onyx," the female suddenly spoke the first time to correct him.
"Hmm . . . she is a spirited one, to defile her master like that," Malloc grinned. "Are you sure she not deflective like many of your other failed creations." He said in mocking tone.
"And why have you bought her here, Bile?" Malloc demanded.
"M'Kachan has ordered this 'special package' to accompany you to the human world, that is all. No questions." Bile answered. Malloc glared at him for moment then turned his attention at her.
"Look at me, wretch," Malloc demanded. He stood in front of her, imposing his sheer presence in front of her and eluding his psychic aura in attempt to scare or intimidate her.
The female slowly tilted her head up at the massive frame of Malloc and . . . laughed. Her laugh was that of a child's giggle. Bile grinned as the look on Malloc's face was priceless. Her conditioning seems to paying off. She was completely fearless and immune to most mental attacks; not that he would mention it to him. The Chaos Lord raised his armoured power fist.
"Do you want to die!" Malloc threatened. The female giggled again.
The Chaos Lord threw his mighty power fist towards her. The strength of the impact shattered the ground. Debris was sent everywhere, leaving a small crater in the ground. Bile smiled smugly. The female experiment was still standing rather than a messy pool of gore, bone and blood. She had yet draw her weapon as she took a quick side step to her right to avoid again the oncoming power fist which missed her by a hair's breath.
Black Onyx looked up at him and tilted her head slightly to one side in gesture of amusement and mockery. Malloc was not pleased. His power fist was crackling with raw energy but instead of advancing on the puny female, the Chaos Lord summoned one of his bodyguards. A Chaos Space Marine approached immediately.
"Kill her," Malloc commanded.
The Night Lord Space Marine obeyed without question. Unsheathing a wicked curved scimitar rather than a power sword. The Chaos Marine charged with his scimitar raised high.
Black Onyx feinted to her left as the scimitar whistled angrily past her. Her sword was ridiculously puny in comparison to the murderous giant weapon the Chaos Marine wielded, but it was all that she had to rely upon. She had to use her cunning and intellect to outwit and out fight the giant monster.
As her mind raced through the many possible ways to defeat an elite Chaos Chosen, she had to dodge and evade the counter swing of the scimitar. She immediately leapt back to put some distance between her and the Chaos Marine. Her mind was calm and focused as she sheathed her weapon and withdrew three needles like daggers. Her mind stopped as she looked at the weapon in her hand, it reminded her of her past as something irked out of her suppressed memory and conditioning. The sudden pause in her actions allowed the Chaos Marine to close the gap between them as he tried to disembowel the female witch in two with a precise and controlled swing. Black Onyx reacted without thinking and ducked and rolled back, evading again the Chaos Marine attack.
Black Onyx shook her head, her mind filled with the redness of fury but a chilly detached part of her told her to make this attack count as she was running out of space as she edge closer to the cliff. She was a dark assassin after all and what else should an assassin do but kill.
The Chaos Marine moved steadily forward, his movement and body language communicating murder to her. His expression hidden behind his ornamental helmet of fear as he sensed death was close. Chaos Lord Malloc grinned as the puny creature was on the edge of the rocky cliff. She was going to die either by falling off the cliff or at the hands of his Chosen. Bile sighed but not for the same reason as Malloc. He didn't have time for this melodrama.
The Chosen launched his single focus attack. Black Onyx enhanced senses and reflexes kicked in as she threw the three daggers in quick succession with brutal accuracy. The needles struck the Chosen Marine directly at the weak points of the power armour. One struck the Chaos Marine in the right eye, which exploded in a mass of blood and gore. The second and third stuck the joint of his scimitar wielding arm, paralysing it completely. The Chosen cried out with agony and dropped his scimitar throwing his free hand to his face.
Black Onyx pranced forwards and unsheathed her sword in one effortless motion. She thumbed the activation rune as she repeatedly stabbed the Chosen in the belly and groin, revelling in the sight of blood flowing. The sword easily piecing the power armour like a hot knife through butter. She felt like she was born to kill. A giggle of laughter escaped her lips as she kept up her attack whilst the Chosen tried to tear her to piece with his free arm.
Black Onyx stepped back to admire her handiwork. She tilted her head to look at the butchered to death from a different angle. She looked towards the Bile and Malloc and bowed in triumphant.
Malloc glared at the female who was sheathing her sword. The smug look on Bile's face had returned. She has performed as he had expected. Her conditioning and alteration were not in vain as he had initially thought. A slight mishap in her state of mind was noticeable.
M'Kachan was pleased with the result and apart from him, Bile was the only one who knew the real reason behind the creation of this female.
"Satisfied now?" Bile asked. He could sense the hatred and the rage in his eyes that Malloc was seriously pissed off. Bile expected the Night Lord to start blasting the female into nothing.
Malloc was angry and wanted to rip her heart out but pause to think as he saw the potential in this female.
"Azysteen!" Malloc barked out loud. The Chaos Lieutenant, who was not far, made his way towards them.
"Yes, my Lord," he said. He had witness everything but decides to not query about it now.
"I'll release this wretch to you in your capable hands, Azysteen. I trust nothing unpleasant will happens to her in your care, Azysteen." Malloc ordered. "Keep a eye on her," he added in hush whisper.
Azysteen looked at the female then at Malloc and nodded in the hidden meaning. "As you wish, my Lord."
While the Chaos Lieutenant approached the female, Lord Malloc turned his full attention to Fabius Bile. Bile had a bored expression on his face. The old man was leaning on his walking stick.
"Well, Lord Malloc," Bile asked again. This was turning out to interesting encounter than he had first thought. He had no doubt that his creation would not fail and to test her against a battle hardened veteran Chaos Space Marine was a clear indication of his success.
"Bah!" Malloc stormed past Bile in way that a foolish child would act if they did not have they own way. "She can come," Bile managed to hear from him.
The Night Lords Chaos Space Marines fell in behind him as they marched down towards the Chaos Portal. The Primogenitor walked towards the edge of the ridge and looked down at the Chaos Portal.
Leaning forward on his walking stick, Bile surveyed the immediate area, a frown appeared on his face as he saw something in the distance. He sighed deeply and turned around, heading back down towards the Citadel. At the bottom of the ridge was his daemon spawn assistant was waiting for him.
"What is it now, Zakayo?" Bile demanded but had a feeling in the bottom of his second altered heart that it was not going to be good.
"A thousand pardons, my master . . . there is a problem." The daemon spawn bowed deeply.
"Indulge me," Bile sighed. M'Kachan would not happy. His fee for his expertise and service were going to sky rocket by the day is over.
Location – Moon, underground lunar caverns.
Blood Angels Librarian Quintus unleash a brilliant blue energy blast from the tip of his finger into the darkness of the cavern. His ancient and ornate power armour was cracked and heavily scarred but still functioning but only just. Only two remaining battle brothers were with him. He did not know the fate of the rest of squad. He should have been aware of the ambush that lay before them but it wasn't until it was too late that the damage had been done. His willpower was slowly draining with every bolt he unleashed into the darkness. His battle brothers conserving ammo with precise shots.
The investigation into the psychic signal revealed something unexpected in the underground cavern. Shield by some sort of psychic barrier, Quintus needed to reach to surface as no communication signal was allowed due to the ancient barrier in place. It also explained why the Angel of Death long ranged scanner prevented them from getting accurate reading from the surface. It was only due to the Blood Angels Librarians fine psychic senses that the source of the signal was picked up that allowed them to launch the investigation team to the lunar surface.
He needed to relay the message back to the Angel of Death that the Thousand Sons were here. He need to report their activity before it was too late even if it cost him his life; the Chapter needed to know.
Quintus looked ahead to see the entrance of the cavern. "My brothers were are nearly there, forward!"
The two Blood Angels acknowledged and covered the Librarian as he rushed forward. He could sense any danger or threat ahead but something was off which he sensed too late.
Without warning something like a wave hit him in the mind, and in a second he was filled with an awesome terror that pushed him backwards. Something of unutterable dreadfulness was in there, something he had to flee from. His eyes pressed tight shut and he was unable to open them. He felt his knees buckle, his legs moving of their own volition, all the most primitive parts of his mind screaming to get away from this place. Dimly, he heard cries and screams, heard the unmistakable screech and cries of . . . Daemons!
He fought it. He had sworn his life to destroy the darkness in his soul and mind, not running from it. He had spent nights to reconciled with his fear, staring at bleaker horrors than this sense of nameless dread, and had survived, and had emerged stronger. This was terrible, awful fear but it was not a real fear, not compared to what he had already faced and beaten. He willed himself to stand still, not to run, and not to give into his fear. Instinct fought will. Heart fought heart. Muscle strained against muscle. He was determined it would not beat him.
It was not real. He focused on that, forcing the fear out of his mind, giving himself a corner of space to think. He was kneeling on the ground. He hadn't realised he had dropped to his knees. He was soaked in sweat and every muscle in his body felt weak. Quintus felt a huge shadow looming over him and looked up. The Blood Angels Marines that were with him lay silently on the ground, their deaths uncertain as there was no indication that he could ascertain. Quintus could not feel his body response at all as if his whole body had turned to stone.
"Ahzek Ahriman, traitor!" Quintus spat as a last act of defiance. "I know what you are trying to do, you will not succeed! He who has been be damned by the Emperor will not return!"
The former Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons tilted his head slightly as if to take pity on him. He raised rune inscribed bolt pistol and pressed hard against Quintus' forehead.
Quintus glare at Ahriman in last act of defiance. His whole body would not response no matter how much wished or struggled.
"Be at peace, you will not be alone. The rest of brethren will join you shortly," he said, his voice strange void of emotion and robotic. With those final words, Ahriman pulled the trigger of his bolt pistol. "All hail, Magnus the Red!"
A loud thunderclap echoed the underground cavern.
To be continued . . . (Daemonic Legion part 3)
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Version 1.0 28/7/10 (First Draft)