"With no Primarchs and no Emperor to stop him, his victory would be all but assured. And he wouldn't win the Legion wars. He would simply end them. Warbands would flock to his banner in droves. He could rebuild all of the Traitor legions in his own image and few would balk at the chance to serve him again."
He turned his head to regard Falkus Kibre directly.
"You still have not said what you want us to do."
Menstras regards through his visor the Fallen Angel with a look of surprise. Perhaps he drifted farther from his father than Menstras thought.
"I hate to agree with the banner-less but clearly you disagree with this development."
His hand clenches the detonator tightly, the tension clearly coming to a head.
"I stand ready."
"It wouldn’t be Horus Lupercal," Falkus said to Deathraven. "Every one of the Sons of Horus felt our father die when the Emperor swallowed his soul. Whatever revenant the Third Legion seeks to raise, it would be a soulless husk born from our father’s bones. They’ve already driven us to the edge of extinction. Isn’t that enough? Must they piss on our bones?"
"First," Falkus said patiently, "I need a neutral port. One to repair and refit my fleet.
Gallium, Khaon said. "The Tlaloc was there not long ago."
Gallium was one of the Mechanicum’s many city-states. One of the IV Legion claimed it as his protectorate and deferred leadership to a ranking Martian adept.
"Rearm and refuel." Lheor lifted a shoulder in a whirring shrug. "But what do you hope to achieve after that? Even with your fleet repaired, your Legion is as dead as Khayon’s." He gestured to Mekhari and Djedhor the 2 Ruberic Marines and said, "No offence intended.
Lheor turned back to Falkus. "I assume you asked us here to prevail on old allegiances, eh? Your hospitality is appreciated, but I could’ve sent my refusal ahead and kept the White Hound elsewhere. You interrupted a fruitful raiding campaign."
"Such ingratitude? You owe me, Lheorvine." Falkus spat.
Lheor stood face to face with Falkus, breastplate to breastplate.
"I owe you, brother. Not your Legion. I refuse to die with them. You want to run? I'll help you run. You want to hide? I’ll even help you turn into a coward if that’s what you suddenly desire. But I’m not going against a Third Legion armada because you’re weeping over the Emperor’s Children stealing your father’s corpse. You earned this fate when you fled Terra and cost us the war."
Covis chuckled a bit at the exchange of words between the two warband leaders.
Khayon cut in "Enough. We lost the war when the Warmaster lost control of the Legions at Terra. We had already failed by the time Horus fell."
"Never argue with a Tizcan,' Lheor muttered. "This still stinks of madness, Falkus. We’re speaking about preternatural archeoscience, the Emperor’s genetic artwork. What hope does a mundane fleshcrafter really have? It will take them an eternity to gene-forge something like a primarch. The Emperor himself could only create twenty of the cursed things, and that took decades."
"I’m not willing to take the risk," Falkus replied, his voice cold and harsh. "We cannot hide in this storm forever. The Tlaloc was the last to arrive. Any others who would have answered the call are dead, lost, or too late to matter. No more delays. No more running. You three swore to aid me when I called upon you."
He turns his gaze back to the Fallen Dark Angel. "See for yourself."
The Sons of Horus legionary produced a hand-held hololithic projector, and thumbed its activation sigil. Harsh green light flickered into being, playing across his armour as the image stuttered its way to resolution.
It showed a ship. Even rendered down into a flickering holo of unhealthy jade light, the scale of the warship was evident enough to steal your breath. An immense battleship, majestic beyond majesty, with its spinal fortresses and armoured prow delineating the bulky murderousness of a Scylla-pattern variant of the ancient Gloriana-class hull.
It was the Vengful Spirit that has been lost for over 400 years.
"You want us to recover the Warmaster's flagship? You know where it is?"
Corvis speaks softly "Your Legion just died, my brother. Now is not the time to chase ghosts."
"I mean it," Falkus said in his avalanche voice. "I will find the Vengeful Spirit. With it I can destroy the Canticle City.
Canticle City is the strong hold of the Emperors Children on the planet of Harmony
"Hundreds of warbands have sought it for centuries," Khayon pointed out.
"Hundreds of warbands had no idea where to look." Falkus retorts and turns his gaze to Deathraven.
He thumbed another setting on the hololithic projector. The image blurred for several seconds, at last resolving into a rough illusion of the Great Eye. With his free hand, he marked out the Eye’s coreward edge – those blighted stars facing Terra.
"The Radiant Worlds." Khayon says softly.
Deathraven steps forward.
"I will aid you in this. Then I want your assistance in return."
Menstras lingers.
Vengeance lays so close. A press of the button and Lupercal will rise again. Perhaps as a puppet of the Emperors Children but still the Imperium will burn.
No.
Not like this. Not in the hands of the guilty.
Disarming and stowing the detonator, he steps forward.
"My personal armory needs a few new toys. Share the Spirit's armory and consider me loyal."
Falkus nods to Deathraven and Menstras in appreciation.
Lheor’s laugh was a gunshot across the vox. "How do you plan to sail your broken ships through the Firetide?"
Khayon cuts in "‘How do you know the Vengeful Spirit is there?"
Falkus deactivated the image. "I was told the flagship lies hidden in a dust nebula beyond the Firetide. I will take my fleet into the Radiant Worlds, and I want you all to come with me."
Khahon nods "I will help you."
Lheor looked to everyone that agreed as if they had spoken madness. "You’ll help him?"
Lheor was somewhat less sanguine. "I want answers, Falkus. How do you know it’s beyond the Firetide? Who’s sending you on this fool’s crusade?"
Falkus turned to his men and voxed an order. "Bring him forward."
Several more of Falkus’s warriors entered from a side corridor, their gait showing the trained movements of walking in gravity-starved environments despite their unwieldy Terminator plate. Justaerin. Once the Sons of Horus warrior-clan elite.
Between the five of them they escorted a warrior bound in mag-locked manacles, binding his wrists. Gold lettering scrawled across his red armour in precise, miniscule runes – each line was a prayer or benediction in a tongue forgotten by the Imperium, which we know as Colchisian.
Lheor snorted as the prisoner was brought towards us. "I admit I wasn’t expecting that."
Corvis places his hand on Akkad's shoulder "Do not do anything foolish until we hear what your brother has to say and why he is bound."
Ulasht smirks beneath his helm at the Dark Angels' presumption of bartering individual favors for assistance. He keeps silent though awaiting the response from Falkus.
He does not rise to Draex's bait but notes the fools bravado if only to punish him for it later.
A primarch, reborn? It would not be Horus, merely a broken clone at best, but such a thing could bring an end to the foolish squabbling of the broken legions, bring unity to the servants of chaos, bring down the Imperium of Lies, and bring acceptance of the primordial truth across the galaxy. Provided such a being was properly molded and guided, of course.
In reaction to the Night Lord captain, Akkad laughs, "Do not worry, brother. The sons of Lorgar do not engage in futile gestures out of foolish spite."
"Is this a gift?" Lheor asked. "Or a toy for Khayon’s bloodward?"
"Wait," Falkus replied, "and you will see.
"See what?" asks Corvis.
You all fell the change in that moment. Lheor looked up sharply, his hand straying to the axe bound to his back. Falkus’s helm clicked with the half-muted exchange of vox messages between he and his warriors, while each of them braced bolters to shoulder-guards in readiness for something as yet unseen. Ulasht fells it as a whisper in the still air, a presence moving from one place to another, the way one might feel someone crossing a room even when one’s eyes are closed.
Mekhari and Djedhor lifted their bolters a moment after Falkus’s men had done so. The wolf was growling at the shadows.
Everyone whirls in the ragged unity of brothers born into different Legions. Mekhari and Djedhor’s boltguns locked on to the standing cadaver. Khayons axe rippled with a live energy field, and the chain-teeth of Lheor’s blade chewed through the airless silence. Corvis bolt pistol flew from his side and raised with quickness.
The dead Sons of Horus officer made no hostile move once he had risen from his throne. The corpse carried no weapon and wore layered, ugly Mark V war-plate. A sign of the Heresy, and rushed repairs made between battlefields. It stood there and watched us, as we aimed our weapons at its head. On its pauldron, the open-eye symbol of the Sons of Horus was cataracted by frost.
Impossibly, there came a crackle as another signal tuned into our shared vox-channel.
"Brothers," the voice came as a breathy, nasty hiss of escaping air. "My brothers.
Ulasht glances at the corpse and chuckles out loud.
"Necromancy makes the uninitiated jumpy it seems..."
Deathraven observed the rising corpse but made no move. This was obviously something that Kibre expected. He didn't sense betrayal, so he merely turned to face the newly-awakened corpse. For once, he was grateful for the gift of chaos that allowed him to truly know no fear.
"Even those fallen to death are subject to the whims of chaos, it seems."
"The warp is a realm of thoughts and emotions, not matter and energy. Nothing imaginable is beyond the power of chaos."
Draex Stands unimpressed
"Huhh, More magic tricks, SPEAK! ghost or well will see if phantoms bleed"
"Name yourself" Lheor ordered the standing corpse.
"Sargon" came the dry whisper across the vox.
Khayon lowered his axe, looking to the nearby Word Bearer. "You are Sargon."
The prisoner’s bronze helm dipped in acknowledgement, but the hissed reply came from the standing corpse.
"Sargon Eregesh, once of the Seventeenth Legion. Once of the Brazenhead Chapter. Once a warrior-priest of the Word."
You recognize the name but never had any direct contact with this word bearer before. You definitely know he wasn't a psyker when the war hon terra happened but he appears to be one now. The warp works in mysterious ways.
Deathraven turned his attention and gaze back to the prisoner.
"What do you know of the Vengeful Spirit?"
Draex stands and watches but says nothing trying to maintain a thread of sanity. His patience is running thin and these witchs with their spooks just the sight makes him uncomfortable .
Draex could careless of some dead primarchs bones being stolen or to seek revenge for others who were to weak protect a corpse but a chance to kill some emperor's children is enough to keep his craving of murder in check. To battle them again and thing out their number would be most enjoyable just have to wait and here what these men have to say
The nails want it though... terminators around or not.
Draex stands still all but the subtle twitching of his palms and fingers wanting nothing more than to grab his axe and go to town.
Sargons corpse puppet rasps "I know where the Vengeful Spirit is hidden. I bring that lore to those who need it most."
"And why do you want to help 'those who need it most'?"
In Colchisian, "You have traveled an interesting path, perhaps you may be able to tell me of it. Who do you judge needs your guidance? What wisdom may you offer?"
Deathraven listened to the tongue that the Dark Apostle spoke to the prisoner in. He had heard it used before among the sons of Lorgar. His hand slipped closer to his plasma pistol. If any of the others suspected that Akkad was trying to gain an advantage, things could turn violet quickly.
Not understanding the language being spoken Draex's attantion drifts. Noticing Deathraven moving towards his pistol. Draex 's blood starts rushing hoping for a rumble to break out. Although his arms are crossed he grips the chains attached to his wrist...
Sargon turns his gaze to Falkus at Deathravens question.
"Because this has been foreseen."
Khayon grunts a bit at that "I really grow tired of seers and their prophecies sometimes. What do you mean by Once?"
The corpse speaks again "I bring enlightenment and illumination, but it is no longer the Word of Lorgar"
His helmet turns toward Akkad who was using their native language and the corpse speaks. "Join those that need it most and you shall be enlightened brother."
Corvis turns to Falkus "Where did you capture him?"
Falkus shook his head. "I didn’t capture him at all. He came to us after Lupercalios fell and surrendered his weapons. The bindings are merely a precaution."
Khayon addresses the word bearer again "Why do you not speak?"
The Word Bearer reached a red gauntlet to touch fingertips to his throat. Again the words came from the upright corpse.
"Wounds taken in the Terran War. I cannot speak. One of Sanguinius’s sons cut my throat. His blade took my larynx and tongue."
Ulasht turns to Falkus, "Chieftan, we have made our case".
Ulasht turns to the leaders of each group respectively, "The Sons of Horus ask for your assistance Brothers, will you give it, or will you spurn us?"
Lheor snears "I need more answers! Why did you surrender to the Duraga kal Esmejhak?"
"Fate demanded it." replied the corpse.
"I have no faith in fate. Give me a real answer." retorted Khayon.
"Fate spins ever onwards whether you regard its passage or not, Iskandar Khayon. It is as inevitable as the turning of time." the corpse replied.
"How do you know where the flagship of the Nine Legions lies?" Lheor growled.
The Word Bearer’s mismatched eye lenses locked to Lheor. "Because I have been aboard it."
Corvis turned to Falkus "This is a trap. It can not be anything but a trap."
Lheor was nodding. Falkus was not. "Is he lying?" the Sons of Horus legionary asked. "Do you sense any deceit in his words?
Khayon takes a long look at Sargon. "I do not but his mind is warded, and I have no idea who sealed it."
Falkus was relentless, and even the note of triumph couldn’t cloak the desperation in his voice. "But he’s telling the truth, yes? You can say that for certain? He knows where the Vengeful Spirit lies?"
"Brother, did you ask me to sail for weeks purely so I could be your truth detector?" Khayon replied.
"Is it the truth, Khayon?" Falkus was staring at Khayon as he spoke.
Khayon sighed "Yes, your prisoner is speaking the truth. For whatever that is worth."
"The best traps," Lheor pointed out, "are set with irresistible bait."
Ulasht chuckles again, "Of course it is a trap. But what is the nature of the trap, we cannot be sure. The alternative is to go back from whence you came and allow the Emperor's Children", Ulasht practically spits the words, "to retain Horus Lupercal's body. I would rather die trying to stop this insane plan then be hunted down and exterminated or forced to submit to the rule of a pretender... What say you Brothers?"
"And the greatest warriors should be able to turn the trap against their enemies and still escape with the prize. Fight smart. Shoot straight. Win. It is what we were bred for. No matter what master or banners we claim to serve, we are still the greatest warriors that have ever existed. We can do this and end this silly squabbling of siblings once and for all, and turn our attentions to the real enemies."
Deathraven turned and looked at each superhuman warrior, gauging their reception of his words.
Ulasht nods to Deathraven in agreement.
"Do not underestimate the skill of Fulgrim's children. Even taken by depravity they are still a formidable foe."
"Show me the emperor's children and I will show you dead bodies" Draex chuckles as he makes waving motion with his hand as if his chain axes where readied
"I dont care about the ship, i care even less about retrieving old bones, but a chance to spill blood of mighty warriors now that is a reason to tag along. Your call Lheor"
"Ill even play nice with them freaks and their parlor tricks"
Draex Points to ulasht and the 1k son
Khayon listens to everyone and turns back to Sargon "‘Where is the Vengeful Spirit?"
"On the edge of the Radiant Worlds," said the corpse. "As I told Falkus Kibre, I now tell you.
Khayon looks between everyone and finally agrees "I will come, I am with you. We live in the underworld itself, Ghosts and madmen outnumber those of us who have stayed sane by a thousand to one. I owe you, Falkus. I do not trust this oracle, but I will come with you."
Corvis nods in agreement "If Khayon thinks this is no fools journey then you have me and my men as well."
Before Lheor could agree or disagree everyone's vox explode with chatter of warning from their ships as six Emperor Children cruisers burst in from the storm’s aetheric clouds.
"LET THEM COME!!!"
Ulasht voxes to Falkus,
"We leave. They have us out gunned.
Sargon rose to his feet, making no attempt to flee. In curious rhythm, as he rose, the corpse he had animated slouched into true lifelessness.
"Come with me," Khayon said to everyone. "All of you. Bring your men. Your ships will be dead before you ever reach them. The Tlaloc is on the storm’s edge, and ready to run."
"You can get us off this ship?" Lheor’s question was a throaty growl.
"Yes." Khayon replied.
"You have a teleportation crucible capable of locking on despite the storm?" Corvis asked.
"No." Khayon replied again.
Lheor shook his head. "Then spare me from the whims of sorcerers. He turned to run, kicking off from the deck and soaring towards the wide-open doors leading to the ship’s spinal thoroughfare. His warriors had already fled.
Falkus looked between the groups. "‘Fortune be with you brothers." With that, he fled after his men with a heavy-stepped grace.
Sargon made hang gestured for Akkad to come with them being one of his legion and then Falkus hauling Sargon by the warpriest’s shoulder-guard to follow his men.
Corvis looked to the 3 that were with him and then back to Khayon. "I'll try my luck getting back to my ship you three can do whatever you wish."
Gritting his teeth under his helm Ulasht follows his Chieftan, The tide will turn and woe to these children once my vengeance falls upon them.
Deathraven turned and regarded Corvis. Though he said nothing, the question was obvious.
"Night Lords, Angel who forsake the Dark yet does not embrace the Light, my pilgrimage takes me away. My well-traveled brother and I have much to discuss." Akkad picks up his brother Word Bearer and his captors.
"I will go with Falkus. I will see you again soon, Corvis."
Deathraven looked at Menstras.
"Maybe I have found a new banner, since the last five decades have not earned me a place among yours."
Deathraven moved to stand beside Falkus Kibre and the Justaerin.
As everyone was making their escape plans or moving out another burst of vox communication shouted as more ships entered from the storm. The lead vessel was a battleship, its blunt prow shaped into the golden, ripped-wing avatar of a crucified Imperial eagle. You all realize that one ship alone could probably destroy all your ships combined. Followed behind it were 3 other ships. They were so confident in their victory the ships didn't even hold any kind of formation.
Akkad and Deathraven sprint to make it up to the Sons of Horus and they turn to him with a bit of surprise but do not stop them from joining their ranks.
"Ulasht and Deathraven," Falkus commands "Take up the rear in case they start boarding parties. I want you both to incinerate any of them bastards if they attempt to ambush us from the rear. Time to prove yourself son of the Lion."
Sargon nods to Akkad as he joins their ranks heading to the gun cutter to get back to their ship.
Your group take off hard toward your gun cutter when the vox communication happens and Lheor curses at the bastards knowing that this is going to be hard to get out of here on their busted up friggate.
Your two former void members leave you both behind to go with the Oracle and Sons of Horus and you quickly run toward your gun cutter to make it back to your ship when the vox communication occurs. Corivs looks at you.
"This is not looking good brother. Even if we make it to our ship we are probably dead." He activates his vox and instructs the battle brothers on the ship to do what must be done and he grins at you.
"It seems our time may finally come to join our father but we will go with a bang."
"Perhaps to you, Favored son of Horus."
Deathraven slowed until he was pulling up the very rear of the formation. He could easily outpace the lumbering terminator armour, but he understood Kibre's choice of strategy. When the fighting happened, the terminators would be too easy to pin down in one location. Any terminator caught in the fight would likely never make it to the cutter before the ship was blown to pieces.
Deathraven drew the plasma pistol in his right hand, the left still covered in the ever-present power fist. Because it was a running withdrawal, he knew that stealth wouldn't serve them at all.
"How many of your brethren will be joining us from different parts of the ship? I will need to ensure that they are accounted for."
"Then we'd best remind them of the Night Haunter's conviction."
Maintaining his stride, Menstras veers off the path to the cutter instead taking to the depths of the ship and the maze that is engineering.
"Let us give whatever allies we have remaining a chance of survival."
A squeal of tormented souls vent their agonies in a cacophony of screams, pleas, and madness. Behind this beautiful noise, at least to the Emperor's Children, is a single voice laughing with abandon. This song plays continuously with no discernible beginning or end.
Ulasht falls to the back of the line drawing no weapon but pacing Deathraven. He lets Falkus answer as to numbers as he was focused on Sargon.
A new voice crackled over the vox and was unfamiliar. It was also restraining itself – you could hear the smile, the suppressed triumph in the tone, but the speaker held back from direct gloating. The vox hail was directed as the commanders of the 3 non sons of horus ships captains but all heard it.
"I am Kadalus of the Third Legion, and my rank is Sardar of the Sixteenth, Fortieth, and Fifty-First Companies. As your bridge crews may have already relayed to you, my fleet is not firing on your vessels, only upon the cruisers in Sons of Horus colours. In that regard, I bring you an offer: your lives. I have no quarrel with you. Get back to your ships and you will be allowed to sail back into the storm, unbloodied and unbroken."
"Sardar Kadalus," Khayon replied, "I do believe you are lying to us."
A crackle of vox did nothing to hide his grimy, knowing chuckle. "Just let me take Falkus and his men, Khayon. I have no interest in your petty conjurings. So I say again, get back to your ships, and leave the Sons of Horus to me. You have my word that I will let you live, and you may carry the tale of my mercy with you back to your strongholds."
"What drives you to hunt Falkus with such tenacity?" Corvis asked.
"He is one of them," said Kadalus.
"Strange to take the moral high ground when your Legion’s performance in the Terran War was hardly beneficial, Sardar. What were you doing while the rest of us spent our blood and lives against the palace walls?" Khayon said.
"I have made my offer," the Sardar replied.
All three captains (Khayon, Lheor and Corvis) denied his offer...
"I had thought the same but do not believe it so.
"There will be 43 more legionnaires joining us at the gun cutter."
Corvis grins at Menstras after denying the Emperors Children request.
"There is no way they were going to let us go. Let us do what we do best brother."
Deathraven acknowledged Kibre's information and began keeping an eye out for others in Sons of Horus colors. He didn't bother acknowledging the threat from Menstras. It was even less worthy than he was.
Ulasht continues moving, what else is there to do with not a single one of the cowards around to face him? Truly the Legion had proven itself "Children" amongst the Adeptus Astartes.
As you make your way through the dead ship your world is torn asunder as an the ship explodes around you. You all fall to the ground and your visors are blurry with static. When you regain your senses and stand you see a gaping hole that separates your party into 2 groups.
On one side Ulasht and Deathraven stand and the other Falkus, Akkad, Sargon and a few of the other Sons of Horus Justarian. It appears that the ship took a direct hit from a broadside cannon and you were lucky enough to not be caught in the center as many of the Sons of Horus were instantly incinerated or you can see them falling into the void without any way to catch a hold of the ship.
Falkus looks to Ulasht and Deathraven after getting to his feet. "Get to Khayon, he will get you off the ship we do not have time to regroup they are already starting to board His Chosen Son." with that he grabs ahold of Sargon again and continues on to the gun cutter.
You and Corvis make your way deeper into the ships bowels heading for the core realizing leaving via your own transport is not a viable option. You can hear the crashing of ship shots against the hull of the vessel as well as board torpedoes crashing. When you look ahead you see such a boarding pod with 10 Emperors Children exiting it blocking your path.
Your group runs as fast as they can to the transport but moments before you get there it explodes! Your team can see 5 Emperor Children making their way toward your group from the hangar bay where they just destroyed your way off this ship.
Draex keeps towards the transport area anyway grabing Crim and Blood. Draex starts to run faster and faster as the rage kicks in. Now in front of the pack Draex is going to unleash war as he was bred to
"FINALLY YOU SHOW YOURSELVES COWARDS, COME LET ME GIVE YOU A PRETTY DEATH."
Deathraven merely nodded and glanced to Ulasht before turning and running back the way they came in an effort to get to Khayon's vessel.
The World Eaters level their heavy bolters at the Emperors Children as Draex charges in and unleash a volley of destruction. Blood and gore fill the hangar bay where there once stood the enemy while only taking limited damage on their side. Lheor took a bolt round that penetrated his leg armor.
"Let us get back to Khayon. It seems the Sorcerer is our only way off this death trap now."