As far as I know of IoM society, he's not going to slip by unnoticed. I do have the feeling that Judas will attract the attention of more people than he'll be happy about.Elheru Aran wrote:I will note that Judas Maccabeus is still very much Judas Maccabeus. However, he's the only one that's *positive* on that point...
Heretic's Redemption (40K Short; Completed)
Moderator: LadyTevar
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Comosicus
- Keeper of the Lore
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Not all Dacians died at Sarmizegetusa
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Ford Prefect
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Elheru Aran
- Emperor's Hand
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Soontir C'boath
- SG-14: Fuck the Medic!
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The latest he posted is chapter seven, he gave the chapter post's the wrong number.Hawkwings wrote:the title says "Chapter 7 added". Should that be chapter 6?
I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season."
HOw'd I miss this last chapter?! GREAT STORY!!!
And you know you're up the creek when the GreyKnights fight against you
And you know you're up the creek when the GreyKnights fight against you
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Elheru Aran
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Chapter Eight. Things heat up...
++++++++++++++
Days later
Some uninhabited system
Funeral service for the Luna Wolves killed in the confrontation with Ezekylus
"...in the name of the Emperor of Mankind, we commend our comrades to the Void. This we believe, though their bodies burn in this star we orbit, their souls are consecrated to the Emperor, and on the day He rises, they shall march alongside Him in the name of all Mankind. Amen."
From Port Hangar Secundus, atmosphere gusted out as the void-shield was released. Six bodies floated on suspensor sleds; six Marines stood by each body in carefully sealed armour. A slow push upon the sleds, and they drifted beyond the ship as a dirge was played. All made the sign of the Aquila, and bowed low as their comrades slipped into the darkness; even Mattathias, though he still lacked his right arm, bent his Dreadnought knees.
Once the bodies slipped past vision, they straightened up. Mattathias quietly remarked, "Thank you, Judas. A beautiful liturgy."
Judas Maccabeus, helmetless, wearing a dusting of white antimony upon his face in mourning, wings furled behind him and draped with black, nodded. Sergeant Asramel swallowed hard, and removed his hands from his chest, one arm armourless and encased in a mending-splint; tears flowed freely down his face, as they undoubtedly did on the other Astartes, though they wore helmets. All wore at least a smudge of antimony upon their helmets or their faces; even Istvaran and his retainers wore dark robes and had cowled their heads in ritual white head-dresses.
Maccabeus continued in an undertone to Mattathias, "Should we see to our guest below? He may be conscious by now..."
"No, Judas. These men need you now. Be there for them." Judas sighed and nodded, and after instructing the hangar-bay enginseers to ensure the voidshield was back in place, went among the men of the Luna Wolves. A word to each, the occasional brotherly embrace. A low bow to Istvaran, who quite properly returned the gesture and forbore from speech, and withdrew with his retainers.
After the final words were spoken, and the company dismissed, Maccabeus nodded to Trypho and Asramel, and together with Mattathias they went to the brig.
There, the Grey Knights stood at rigid attention, their Nemesis weapons crackling and ready, surrounding the unarmoured body of Inquisitor Lord Stravo Ezekylus, hanging spread-eagle from chains. They had been like that since Judas issued orders after his... transformation. Someone had, however, taken the time to come by and daub antimony upon their helmets, and Avaran had a jeweled teardrop hanging under his right eye.
Ezekylus, his face bruised, dried blood still upon his ears and lips, lifted his head and looked at Judas. Grinning malevolently, he sarcastically inquired, "So, the great Sanguinius comes to see me. I hope he will forgive me for not getting up to pay my respects?"
Judas growled, "I am not Sanguinius. I am Judas Maccabeus. Remember that!" and backhanded Ezekylus across the face. The Inquisitor looked up and grinned through bloody teeth, and responded, "But some believe you are the Lord of Angels... what do you say to that, Chaplain? Are you going to return to Baal and parade yourself before your founding chapter? Claim the throne of Dante? Usurp Mephiston?"
Gripping the flabby Inquisitor by his throat, Maccabeus growled, "You speak heresy. Shame, Inquisitor Lord...," letting go disdainfully. Thasis stepped over to him and whispered, "We found this in the Inquisitor Lord's armour, Chaplain..." and handed over a dataslate.
Stepping away from Ezekylus, he looked it over. Apparently the Inquisitor had made backup plans. Maccabeus threw Ezekylus a contemptuous glare, and then quietly ordered, "Thasis, release the Inquisitor and place him into a pinnace with rations. Strip all equipment but the atmosphere and waste processors from the interior, and launch it into orbit around the moon of the second planet. Trypho, locate Istvaran and have him meet us in the hangar bay. Asramel, round up the Astartes-- we meet there in twenty minutes."
As the Grey Knights closed in to Ezekylus and undid his bonds, Alcimus disdainfully flung a hairy, dirty robe from one of the ship's servitors at the Inquisitor. Maccabeus stood apart, and quietly asked Mattathias, "Am I doing the right thing?"
"Chaplain, each man believes he is doing the right thing at some point. The question is, does each man truly know whether or not he is doing the right thing?"
Judas glared at Mattathias and strode off. The Dreadnought chuckled grimly and followed the Grey Knights squad escorting Ezekylus out, clenching and unclenching his remaining fist...
Just before the time was due, men began streaming into the hangar bay. Judas stood in a corner in the shadows-- the wings made him feel self-conscious of his own humanity by their very etherealness. Alcimus came up beside him and whispered, "The Inquisitor Lord requests your presence before he departs. He has words for your ears only."
Maccabeus turned his eyes heavenward and sighed dramatically, but he stepped forward and fell into step with Alcimus. They were at the other hangar before long; there, Ezekylus sat bound upon the steps of the pinnace hatch, in the coarse hair-shirt provided him. He smiled bitterly and gestured for Judas to approach.
Once the Chaplain was close enough, his wings hunched up above his shoulders in suspicion, Ezekylus whispered intently, "Chaplain, I know I have done little to garner your trust, and I know you are aware of the failsafe transmitter built into my armour that automatically sends through the closest astropathicus. What I tell you now, let none know. Agreed?"
Judas straightened up and looked scornfully at the pathetic pile that remained of a once-proud Inquisitor Lord, and inquired, "So tell me, why should I heed your words? I am the one ejecting you from my ship; you have nothing to offer me."
"Except for a delay to the forces that shall be pursuing you shortly, Chaplain," Ezekylus hissed. "Give me my Seal, and I shall order them to cease and rescue me instead. They shall be occupied with that for some time. You understand?"
Grudgingly, Maccabeus nodded. The Inquisitor licked dry lips and continued, "You will of course be declared Extremis Diabolius and heretics, traitors to the Astartes, hunted down and killed. Unless..." he trailed off, looking intently at the towering Chaplain.
"Out with it, Inquisitor." Judas' tone brooked no games-- tell him now, it said, or you get nothing. Which Ezekylus, being no fool, picked up on; he went on a little more quietly, "There is a fortress of the Traitor Legions in this area, built by the Iron Warriors. It is but a small one, pre-Heresy, manned by a small force; but one powerful enough to resist all Imperial incursions in the area. It serves as a pivotal stopping point for the Black Crusades of the Despoiler, as the planet is primitive, an ideal source of slaves for their ships. Take that fortress, Judas Maccabeus, and I give you my word, upon my seal as a Lord of the Ordo Malleus, that you and your men will be exonerated of all heresy. Your Letter of Marque will remain in effect, and you may retain this ship and your foundlings. I can give you no more."
Maccabeus sighed and held out the dataslate. "Coordinates?" The Inquisitor carefully pecked them out with his bound hands; reaching into a pocket hanging from his belt, Judas pulled out the seal and gave it to Ezekylus, then cut the bonds. Stepping back, eyes intent upon the Inquisitor, watching him until Eleazar passed in a vox-unit and closed the hatch. Then he turned around and strode away as the pinnace engines powered up.
Entering the hangar, his wings snapped out and with a powerful stroke, he entered the air and landed lightly upon the prow of a Thunderhawk, wraithbone dust still in some crevices of the gunship. He handed the dataslate to Istvaran and began speaking to the survivors of the Luna Wolves.
"Men, Inquisitor Ezekylus had a diabolical device in his armour that signaled reinforcements to close in when we took it off him. These reinforcements will almost certainly massacre us once they find us. He has, however, made a deal; we let him go safely, and he will hold off his forces. In return, we must do this..."
++++++++++++++
Days later
Some uninhabited system
Funeral service for the Luna Wolves killed in the confrontation with Ezekylus
"...in the name of the Emperor of Mankind, we commend our comrades to the Void. This we believe, though their bodies burn in this star we orbit, their souls are consecrated to the Emperor, and on the day He rises, they shall march alongside Him in the name of all Mankind. Amen."
From Port Hangar Secundus, atmosphere gusted out as the void-shield was released. Six bodies floated on suspensor sleds; six Marines stood by each body in carefully sealed armour. A slow push upon the sleds, and they drifted beyond the ship as a dirge was played. All made the sign of the Aquila, and bowed low as their comrades slipped into the darkness; even Mattathias, though he still lacked his right arm, bent his Dreadnought knees.
Once the bodies slipped past vision, they straightened up. Mattathias quietly remarked, "Thank you, Judas. A beautiful liturgy."
Judas Maccabeus, helmetless, wearing a dusting of white antimony upon his face in mourning, wings furled behind him and draped with black, nodded. Sergeant Asramel swallowed hard, and removed his hands from his chest, one arm armourless and encased in a mending-splint; tears flowed freely down his face, as they undoubtedly did on the other Astartes, though they wore helmets. All wore at least a smudge of antimony upon their helmets or their faces; even Istvaran and his retainers wore dark robes and had cowled their heads in ritual white head-dresses.
Maccabeus continued in an undertone to Mattathias, "Should we see to our guest below? He may be conscious by now..."
"No, Judas. These men need you now. Be there for them." Judas sighed and nodded, and after instructing the hangar-bay enginseers to ensure the voidshield was back in place, went among the men of the Luna Wolves. A word to each, the occasional brotherly embrace. A low bow to Istvaran, who quite properly returned the gesture and forbore from speech, and withdrew with his retainers.
After the final words were spoken, and the company dismissed, Maccabeus nodded to Trypho and Asramel, and together with Mattathias they went to the brig.
There, the Grey Knights stood at rigid attention, their Nemesis weapons crackling and ready, surrounding the unarmoured body of Inquisitor Lord Stravo Ezekylus, hanging spread-eagle from chains. They had been like that since Judas issued orders after his... transformation. Someone had, however, taken the time to come by and daub antimony upon their helmets, and Avaran had a jeweled teardrop hanging under his right eye.
Ezekylus, his face bruised, dried blood still upon his ears and lips, lifted his head and looked at Judas. Grinning malevolently, he sarcastically inquired, "So, the great Sanguinius comes to see me. I hope he will forgive me for not getting up to pay my respects?"
Judas growled, "I am not Sanguinius. I am Judas Maccabeus. Remember that!" and backhanded Ezekylus across the face. The Inquisitor looked up and grinned through bloody teeth, and responded, "But some believe you are the Lord of Angels... what do you say to that, Chaplain? Are you going to return to Baal and parade yourself before your founding chapter? Claim the throne of Dante? Usurp Mephiston?"
Gripping the flabby Inquisitor by his throat, Maccabeus growled, "You speak heresy. Shame, Inquisitor Lord...," letting go disdainfully. Thasis stepped over to him and whispered, "We found this in the Inquisitor Lord's armour, Chaplain..." and handed over a dataslate.
Stepping away from Ezekylus, he looked it over. Apparently the Inquisitor had made backup plans. Maccabeus threw Ezekylus a contemptuous glare, and then quietly ordered, "Thasis, release the Inquisitor and place him into a pinnace with rations. Strip all equipment but the atmosphere and waste processors from the interior, and launch it into orbit around the moon of the second planet. Trypho, locate Istvaran and have him meet us in the hangar bay. Asramel, round up the Astartes-- we meet there in twenty minutes."
As the Grey Knights closed in to Ezekylus and undid his bonds, Alcimus disdainfully flung a hairy, dirty robe from one of the ship's servitors at the Inquisitor. Maccabeus stood apart, and quietly asked Mattathias, "Am I doing the right thing?"
"Chaplain, each man believes he is doing the right thing at some point. The question is, does each man truly know whether or not he is doing the right thing?"
Judas glared at Mattathias and strode off. The Dreadnought chuckled grimly and followed the Grey Knights squad escorting Ezekylus out, clenching and unclenching his remaining fist...
Just before the time was due, men began streaming into the hangar bay. Judas stood in a corner in the shadows-- the wings made him feel self-conscious of his own humanity by their very etherealness. Alcimus came up beside him and whispered, "The Inquisitor Lord requests your presence before he departs. He has words for your ears only."
Maccabeus turned his eyes heavenward and sighed dramatically, but he stepped forward and fell into step with Alcimus. They were at the other hangar before long; there, Ezekylus sat bound upon the steps of the pinnace hatch, in the coarse hair-shirt provided him. He smiled bitterly and gestured for Judas to approach.
Once the Chaplain was close enough, his wings hunched up above his shoulders in suspicion, Ezekylus whispered intently, "Chaplain, I know I have done little to garner your trust, and I know you are aware of the failsafe transmitter built into my armour that automatically sends through the closest astropathicus. What I tell you now, let none know. Agreed?"
Judas straightened up and looked scornfully at the pathetic pile that remained of a once-proud Inquisitor Lord, and inquired, "So tell me, why should I heed your words? I am the one ejecting you from my ship; you have nothing to offer me."
"Except for a delay to the forces that shall be pursuing you shortly, Chaplain," Ezekylus hissed. "Give me my Seal, and I shall order them to cease and rescue me instead. They shall be occupied with that for some time. You understand?"
Grudgingly, Maccabeus nodded. The Inquisitor licked dry lips and continued, "You will of course be declared Extremis Diabolius and heretics, traitors to the Astartes, hunted down and killed. Unless..." he trailed off, looking intently at the towering Chaplain.
"Out with it, Inquisitor." Judas' tone brooked no games-- tell him now, it said, or you get nothing. Which Ezekylus, being no fool, picked up on; he went on a little more quietly, "There is a fortress of the Traitor Legions in this area, built by the Iron Warriors. It is but a small one, pre-Heresy, manned by a small force; but one powerful enough to resist all Imperial incursions in the area. It serves as a pivotal stopping point for the Black Crusades of the Despoiler, as the planet is primitive, an ideal source of slaves for their ships. Take that fortress, Judas Maccabeus, and I give you my word, upon my seal as a Lord of the Ordo Malleus, that you and your men will be exonerated of all heresy. Your Letter of Marque will remain in effect, and you may retain this ship and your foundlings. I can give you no more."
Maccabeus sighed and held out the dataslate. "Coordinates?" The Inquisitor carefully pecked them out with his bound hands; reaching into a pocket hanging from his belt, Judas pulled out the seal and gave it to Ezekylus, then cut the bonds. Stepping back, eyes intent upon the Inquisitor, watching him until Eleazar passed in a vox-unit and closed the hatch. Then he turned around and strode away as the pinnace engines powered up.
Entering the hangar, his wings snapped out and with a powerful stroke, he entered the air and landed lightly upon the prow of a Thunderhawk, wraithbone dust still in some crevices of the gunship. He handed the dataslate to Istvaran and began speaking to the survivors of the Luna Wolves.
"Men, Inquisitor Ezekylus had a diabolical device in his armour that signaled reinforcements to close in when we took it off him. These reinforcements will almost certainly massacre us once they find us. He has, however, made a deal; we let him go safely, and he will hold off his forces. In return, we must do this..."
It's a strange world. Let's keep it that way.
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
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Elheru Aran
- Emperor's Hand
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Chapter Nine. Enjoy!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A simple mission, a simple briefing; it was over shortly enough. As Trypho cracked out “Dismissed!” Maccabeus stepped down from the Thunderhawk carefully. Looking up at Mattathias, he frowned and asked, “Can we do this?”
“We must do what we must, Judas,” the Dreadnought rumbled. He sighed and nodded, and they stepped down the corridor leading to the bridge, Trypho silently falling in with them. As they approached a cross corridor, a small contingent of crewmen marching along with supplies for repairing the chapel fell to their knees and made the aquila, bowing deeply, murmuring… Maccabeus’ augmented hearing discerned the tail end of what they were saying, something based upon chants to the Emperor.
“…bless us and lift us unto the Emperor, Blessed Sanguinius, Lord of Angels…”
Judas frowned fiercely and rounded upon them, catching Mattathias and Trypho wrong-footed. Reaching down and grabbing the foreman by his collar, he lifted him into the air and growled, “I am no Sanguinius, crewman. I am Judas Maccabeus, not the Blessed. Sanguinius died millennia ago—let him lie in his tomb!”
Black armour gleaming on his arm as he dropped the quivering foreman back onto the deck, he about-faced again and strode angrily down the corridor, Mattathias and Trypho chasing him again. When they caught up, Trypho reached past the wings and laid a hand on his shoulder, but Maccabeus angrily batted it aside. Rounding upon them, he angrily asked, “Is that how they see me now? The reincarnation of the Blessed Angel? Son of the Emperor Himself? A God walking their own ship? Why do they not see Judas Maccabeus?”
Trypho could not look him in the eye, and looked at the decking instead; but Mattathias rumbled, “Judas? Look at me.”
Maccabeus looked up at the Dreadnought, and frowned as air hissed around the ornate front armour of the sarcophagus. The lid cracked about its edges, and pushed outward; creakily, it scraped upwards. The scarred Marine within, missing his body below his chest, one arm implanted directly into the Dreadnought and the other covered with augmetic jacks, looked intently at Judas with steel-gray eyes. A firm jaw moved, and Judas realized he was hearing the voice twice, in the Dreadnought’s rumble and also in Mattathias’ own voice—“Judas, what do you think people see when they look at me? They do not see Mattathias Istheyanu. They see this armoured machine, and believe it to be simply Mattathias. People look at you, Judas, and they see Sanguinius, yes… but we know who stands under those wings. A man. An Astartes. Judas Maccabeus. Not the Blessed.”
Judas nodded silently and Mattathias sat back in the sarcophagus as the lid lowered, sealing with a quiet hiss. “By your leave, Chaplain,” Mattathias quietly requested, and departed down the corridor. He turned to Trypho, and asked, “Kuja? You understood?”
Sergeant Trypho stood tall and nodded firmly, finally able to look Judas in the eyes again—lupine yellow meeting clear, strong blue. He grinned somewhat humourlessly and responded, “I did not have the words. Mattathias, though—he doesn’t lead merely by his rank.”
Judas nodded, and in an undertone inquired, “After seeing… how did he survive that? Where did he get that injury? It looked like what the Orkish power-klaws do to a man…”
Trypho, serious, nodded. They walked along, and finally he spoke, “You are familiar with the Luna Wolves’ campaigns and rank structure?”
“I did some research, yes. Lieutenant was a provisional rank between advancement from sergeant to captain, was it not? We no longer use that rank in the Astartes except in some of the more traditional Chapters.”
The sergeant nodded and continued, “Mattathias commanded two squads of the Fourth Company. We were passing through a small colony system that surrendered unconditionally and swore allegiance to the Emperor once they knew our might; they were weakened considerably by a plague of greenskins in the area, so they could not resist. We deployed Fourth Company for a period of three months in the system, and purged it of the greenskin.”
Judas frowned and gestured for Trypho to continue; he nodded and went on, “The reason we committed an entire Company was because of Mattathias and his squads. The Warmaster had believed it unnecessary to reinforce the entire system, so he only sent Mattathias and his squads to the capital world. The Orks had some infernal machine; it tunneled through the earth, bypassed the defence lines, and detonated deep within the heart of the primary fortress.
“The lines broke; Mattathias and his men filled the gap, but they could only do so much. They fell one by one. Mattathias was the last survivor, swinging his mighty power-axe, full six feet by two at the blade, dispatching the xenos with each stroke. A monstrous number of the greenskin fell at his feet, and they built up an enormous pile of the dead; and then the nobs attacked him. Seventy and six did he kill, and Orcbane, his axe, smoked with their blood. It was though his armour was red instead of gray, so covered in blood he was.
“The witnesses—and few there were—said it was as though Leman Russ himself stood upon the battlefield and slew all that came at him. And as he smote, he would cry ‘The day shall come again!’, for his home world had been much denuded by the greenskin, and within his breast he hates them still; the ‘day’ he spoke of would be his vengeance.
“But he could not stand forever, and the blood flowing about his feet was not entirely Orkish; and they surrounded him. None advanced out of fear of his axe; they but stood and gibbered in their rough language. One mighty Ork, fully twice the height of the others, finally advanced and bellowed a challenge. Mattathias stood proud, and lifted his axe in response. The champion charged him, blood splashing about his feet; Mattathias’ axe sung as he lifted it, power coursing through it one last time.
“The greenskin swung his mighty claw at him; he sunk the axe to its hilt in the beast’s head. As it fell, he staggered; and with a last tremendous effort, the greenskin thrust its claw forward and struck his body off his legs. There he fell, atop the corpse of his kill. But the Orks did not move to defile the body as they do, nor did they move to occupy the defense lines; they backed off silently to their own lines, chanting quietly.
“We sent a Stormbird with reinforcements the instant we lost contact with Mattathias’ squads; but it was too late. We found his body upon the battlefield, and took him back to the flagship’s medicae facilities immediately. The only way to save him was by encasing him in a Dreadnought sarcophagus; the Warmaster himself signed the authorizing papers.
“That axe of his, though—Orcbane—we never found it. Three days later we descended once more unto the planet with the full might of Fourth Company, but the pile of bodies, the axe, they had all vanished. A crude Orkish temple was nearby. The fighting had shifted; we would have destroyed the xenos sanctuary, but we were needed elsewhere.”
Trypho’s story finished, he fell silent. Maccabeus, understanding now, left him to his musings. The sergeant turned to go down the corridor to the Marines’ quarters, but paused and turned; his voice curious, he inquired—“Sir? When you met Ezekylus the first time, and told him to begone—you mentioned being a scion of the Maccabees. I was not aware you retained your family name?”
Judas nodded gravely and responded, “Not family, but home. Our system, near Baal, is where many of the Tears of Sanguinius were taken from. It was ever our tradition if any of our number went out-system, we took the patronymic Maccabeus, after our home. Each Maccabee is family, in a way—though we do not share blood, we are brother and sister. I knew many Maccabees in my Chapter, and once I met an Interrogator Isha Maccabeus, who oddly enough happened to be from the same town I grew up as a child. It was pleasant reminiscing with her, though she remembered more than I.”
Trypho nodded and proceeded to his quarters; Judas stood for a moment, deep in thought, and then continued onward to the bridge, reaching up with a bare hand to wipe the last of the antimony off his face.
Around the corner, Hammedatha Istvaran stood and contemplated, finger to his lips; he rounded about and strode off to his quarters. There, standing before his archival chest, he withdrew a data-recording, an Inquisitorial symbol and that of the Astartes inscribed upon the stave. Inserting it into his slate, he scrolled through it till he found the entry he desired—
“…Our Deathwatch contingent explored the planet. It was infested by Orks apparently sprung up after the Crusade from the spores they leave in the ground (hence why, per Inquisitorial Procedure Xenos 054234.5818, Exterminatus is the final solution for Orkish infestation), so we proceeded with care. Outside the primary settlement, a small shrine with pre-Heresy characteristics stood out by virtue of no Ork being willing to approach closer than a full kilometre; apparently to them, this place had great power.
“Some did inhabit the immediate area; they seemed to be tribal shamans, apparently believing the proximity to this shrine would enhance their powers. Most of these shamans fought, and were promptly killed, but we did capture one craven specimen. Upon interrogation, he gibbered about this being the location of a mighty combat between two Gods of War. The Orkish God sent forth his warriors in a mighty stream against the Axe of Death; the blood flowed as though it were a river, and their god finally faced his opponent, and struck him down.
“This story interested Interrogator Ithilimpos, who decided to investigate the shrine further. Inside, she found massive piles of Orkish skulls in great pits; many were hacked about as though chopped with a great implement. Upon the skin-covered altar, a mighty power axe, made upon Holy Terra in M30.3_1__2 (according to the runes inscribed; date uncertain as they were much obscured by battle and age), traced back to the Great Crusade and the Luna Wolves, laid; it was a full two metres long and three-quarters across the double-bladed head. Upon one blade still, embedded so deeply and firmly that no amount of effort could remove it, was an enormous greenskin skull, fully thrice the size of the average Ork; this must have been a truly massive warboss, easily seen as a god by the average greenskin.
“It is our speculation that some great Hero of the Crusade (further research is proceeding to discover the axe’s wielder; see appendix XLVI.beta) made a last stand upon this location. The Orks, their crude ethos respecting warlike endeavours above all, naturally identified such a powerful Astartes as a ‘god’; I refer you to Inquisitor Yngiraran’s seminal work ‘Minds of the Xenos’ (RESTRICTED ACCESS ONLY!) for further explanation.
“With great regret, we deconsecrated the axe, as it was too massive to bring along; crushing the greenskin skull embedded upon its blade, we gave it an appropriate burial after removing the power units. The shrine we put to the cleansing flame.
“Our next step in the investigation of this sector was to…” and Istvaran deactivated the slate, sitting back, eyebrow arched but understanding in his eyes.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A simple mission, a simple briefing; it was over shortly enough. As Trypho cracked out “Dismissed!” Maccabeus stepped down from the Thunderhawk carefully. Looking up at Mattathias, he frowned and asked, “Can we do this?”
“We must do what we must, Judas,” the Dreadnought rumbled. He sighed and nodded, and they stepped down the corridor leading to the bridge, Trypho silently falling in with them. As they approached a cross corridor, a small contingent of crewmen marching along with supplies for repairing the chapel fell to their knees and made the aquila, bowing deeply, murmuring… Maccabeus’ augmented hearing discerned the tail end of what they were saying, something based upon chants to the Emperor.
“…bless us and lift us unto the Emperor, Blessed Sanguinius, Lord of Angels…”
Judas frowned fiercely and rounded upon them, catching Mattathias and Trypho wrong-footed. Reaching down and grabbing the foreman by his collar, he lifted him into the air and growled, “I am no Sanguinius, crewman. I am Judas Maccabeus, not the Blessed. Sanguinius died millennia ago—let him lie in his tomb!”
Black armour gleaming on his arm as he dropped the quivering foreman back onto the deck, he about-faced again and strode angrily down the corridor, Mattathias and Trypho chasing him again. When they caught up, Trypho reached past the wings and laid a hand on his shoulder, but Maccabeus angrily batted it aside. Rounding upon them, he angrily asked, “Is that how they see me now? The reincarnation of the Blessed Angel? Son of the Emperor Himself? A God walking their own ship? Why do they not see Judas Maccabeus?”
Trypho could not look him in the eye, and looked at the decking instead; but Mattathias rumbled, “Judas? Look at me.”
Maccabeus looked up at the Dreadnought, and frowned as air hissed around the ornate front armour of the sarcophagus. The lid cracked about its edges, and pushed outward; creakily, it scraped upwards. The scarred Marine within, missing his body below his chest, one arm implanted directly into the Dreadnought and the other covered with augmetic jacks, looked intently at Judas with steel-gray eyes. A firm jaw moved, and Judas realized he was hearing the voice twice, in the Dreadnought’s rumble and also in Mattathias’ own voice—“Judas, what do you think people see when they look at me? They do not see Mattathias Istheyanu. They see this armoured machine, and believe it to be simply Mattathias. People look at you, Judas, and they see Sanguinius, yes… but we know who stands under those wings. A man. An Astartes. Judas Maccabeus. Not the Blessed.”
Judas nodded silently and Mattathias sat back in the sarcophagus as the lid lowered, sealing with a quiet hiss. “By your leave, Chaplain,” Mattathias quietly requested, and departed down the corridor. He turned to Trypho, and asked, “Kuja? You understood?”
Sergeant Trypho stood tall and nodded firmly, finally able to look Judas in the eyes again—lupine yellow meeting clear, strong blue. He grinned somewhat humourlessly and responded, “I did not have the words. Mattathias, though—he doesn’t lead merely by his rank.”
Judas nodded, and in an undertone inquired, “After seeing… how did he survive that? Where did he get that injury? It looked like what the Orkish power-klaws do to a man…”
Trypho, serious, nodded. They walked along, and finally he spoke, “You are familiar with the Luna Wolves’ campaigns and rank structure?”
“I did some research, yes. Lieutenant was a provisional rank between advancement from sergeant to captain, was it not? We no longer use that rank in the Astartes except in some of the more traditional Chapters.”
The sergeant nodded and continued, “Mattathias commanded two squads of the Fourth Company. We were passing through a small colony system that surrendered unconditionally and swore allegiance to the Emperor once they knew our might; they were weakened considerably by a plague of greenskins in the area, so they could not resist. We deployed Fourth Company for a period of three months in the system, and purged it of the greenskin.”
Judas frowned and gestured for Trypho to continue; he nodded and went on, “The reason we committed an entire Company was because of Mattathias and his squads. The Warmaster had believed it unnecessary to reinforce the entire system, so he only sent Mattathias and his squads to the capital world. The Orks had some infernal machine; it tunneled through the earth, bypassed the defence lines, and detonated deep within the heart of the primary fortress.
“The lines broke; Mattathias and his men filled the gap, but they could only do so much. They fell one by one. Mattathias was the last survivor, swinging his mighty power-axe, full six feet by two at the blade, dispatching the xenos with each stroke. A monstrous number of the greenskin fell at his feet, and they built up an enormous pile of the dead; and then the nobs attacked him. Seventy and six did he kill, and Orcbane, his axe, smoked with their blood. It was though his armour was red instead of gray, so covered in blood he was.
“The witnesses—and few there were—said it was as though Leman Russ himself stood upon the battlefield and slew all that came at him. And as he smote, he would cry ‘The day shall come again!’, for his home world had been much denuded by the greenskin, and within his breast he hates them still; the ‘day’ he spoke of would be his vengeance.
“But he could not stand forever, and the blood flowing about his feet was not entirely Orkish; and they surrounded him. None advanced out of fear of his axe; they but stood and gibbered in their rough language. One mighty Ork, fully twice the height of the others, finally advanced and bellowed a challenge. Mattathias stood proud, and lifted his axe in response. The champion charged him, blood splashing about his feet; Mattathias’ axe sung as he lifted it, power coursing through it one last time.
“The greenskin swung his mighty claw at him; he sunk the axe to its hilt in the beast’s head. As it fell, he staggered; and with a last tremendous effort, the greenskin thrust its claw forward and struck his body off his legs. There he fell, atop the corpse of his kill. But the Orks did not move to defile the body as they do, nor did they move to occupy the defense lines; they backed off silently to their own lines, chanting quietly.
“We sent a Stormbird with reinforcements the instant we lost contact with Mattathias’ squads; but it was too late. We found his body upon the battlefield, and took him back to the flagship’s medicae facilities immediately. The only way to save him was by encasing him in a Dreadnought sarcophagus; the Warmaster himself signed the authorizing papers.
“That axe of his, though—Orcbane—we never found it. Three days later we descended once more unto the planet with the full might of Fourth Company, but the pile of bodies, the axe, they had all vanished. A crude Orkish temple was nearby. The fighting had shifted; we would have destroyed the xenos sanctuary, but we were needed elsewhere.”
Trypho’s story finished, he fell silent. Maccabeus, understanding now, left him to his musings. The sergeant turned to go down the corridor to the Marines’ quarters, but paused and turned; his voice curious, he inquired—“Sir? When you met Ezekylus the first time, and told him to begone—you mentioned being a scion of the Maccabees. I was not aware you retained your family name?”
Judas nodded gravely and responded, “Not family, but home. Our system, near Baal, is where many of the Tears of Sanguinius were taken from. It was ever our tradition if any of our number went out-system, we took the patronymic Maccabeus, after our home. Each Maccabee is family, in a way—though we do not share blood, we are brother and sister. I knew many Maccabees in my Chapter, and once I met an Interrogator Isha Maccabeus, who oddly enough happened to be from the same town I grew up as a child. It was pleasant reminiscing with her, though she remembered more than I.”
Trypho nodded and proceeded to his quarters; Judas stood for a moment, deep in thought, and then continued onward to the bridge, reaching up with a bare hand to wipe the last of the antimony off his face.
Around the corner, Hammedatha Istvaran stood and contemplated, finger to his lips; he rounded about and strode off to his quarters. There, standing before his archival chest, he withdrew a data-recording, an Inquisitorial symbol and that of the Astartes inscribed upon the stave. Inserting it into his slate, he scrolled through it till he found the entry he desired—
“…Our Deathwatch contingent explored the planet. It was infested by Orks apparently sprung up after the Crusade from the spores they leave in the ground (hence why, per Inquisitorial Procedure Xenos 054234.5818, Exterminatus is the final solution for Orkish infestation), so we proceeded with care. Outside the primary settlement, a small shrine with pre-Heresy characteristics stood out by virtue of no Ork being willing to approach closer than a full kilometre; apparently to them, this place had great power.
“Some did inhabit the immediate area; they seemed to be tribal shamans, apparently believing the proximity to this shrine would enhance their powers. Most of these shamans fought, and were promptly killed, but we did capture one craven specimen. Upon interrogation, he gibbered about this being the location of a mighty combat between two Gods of War. The Orkish God sent forth his warriors in a mighty stream against the Axe of Death; the blood flowed as though it were a river, and their god finally faced his opponent, and struck him down.
“This story interested Interrogator Ithilimpos, who decided to investigate the shrine further. Inside, she found massive piles of Orkish skulls in great pits; many were hacked about as though chopped with a great implement. Upon the skin-covered altar, a mighty power axe, made upon Holy Terra in M30.3_1__2 (according to the runes inscribed; date uncertain as they were much obscured by battle and age), traced back to the Great Crusade and the Luna Wolves, laid; it was a full two metres long and three-quarters across the double-bladed head. Upon one blade still, embedded so deeply and firmly that no amount of effort could remove it, was an enormous greenskin skull, fully thrice the size of the average Ork; this must have been a truly massive warboss, easily seen as a god by the average greenskin.
“It is our speculation that some great Hero of the Crusade (further research is proceeding to discover the axe’s wielder; see appendix XLVI.beta) made a last stand upon this location. The Orks, their crude ethos respecting warlike endeavours above all, naturally identified such a powerful Astartes as a ‘god’; I refer you to Inquisitor Yngiraran’s seminal work ‘Minds of the Xenos’ (RESTRICTED ACCESS ONLY!) for further explanation.
“With great regret, we deconsecrated the axe, as it was too massive to bring along; crushing the greenskin skull embedded upon its blade, we gave it an appropriate burial after removing the power units. The shrine we put to the cleansing flame.
“Our next step in the investigation of this sector was to…” and Istvaran deactivated the slate, sitting back, eyebrow arched but understanding in his eyes.
It's a strange world. Let's keep it that way.
... wow. Just... wow.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
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Soontir C'boath
- SG-14: Fuck the Medic!
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- Contact:
Very good background chapter of our dreadnought.
I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season."
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Elheru Aran
- Emperor's Hand
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Chpt 10
Styx
Two weeks' travel out from previous location
Time on planet: 3 days, 8 hours, 25 minutes
Judas whispered on the vox, "Is everybody in place?"
"Trypho here. Yes."
"Asramel here. We'll be a bit, there's this minefield we have to cross. Will call in when in position. Out."
"Thasis and Sigma-Delta in place."
"Brother-Lieutenant Mattathias in position and ready."
"Roger everybody. We wait for Asramel and then when he calls in, we go. Understand?"
After the chorus of affirmation sounded, Judas sat back on his heels, perched precariously on a cliff ledge, cloaked in dark gray cloth that also covered his wings, appearing to be nothing more than a boulder. He reflected on the previous night when they came to a halt to rest and cement their battle plans...
"The Iron Warriors, even in our day, were determined builders-- they constructed their fortresses to last. It will not be easy to take this, Judas," Mattathias had intoned. Maccabeus had fired him an annoyed look and then asked the sergeants and Thasis what they thought, and much to his irritation, they had said broadly similar words. He swallowed his choler, though, and asked for their input. Together, they had hammered out a battle plan, using stones and a stump that happened to be on a mound of earth by a stream, much like the Iron Warriors' fortress was sitting on a cliff besides a gorge.
It wasn't a large fortress-- one of the Iron Warriors' pre-Heresy edifices, as Ezekylus had reported, from the days when they were spread all across the galaxy maintaining peace on worlds conquered by the Imperium. Maximum of fifteen men to be expected, and the activity their scouts had watched indicated probably less-- this world didn't need much to keep it pacified, and in fact only the Inquisition had known of this fortress being here, as Istvaran had confirmed.
However, as these were Iron Warriors, and defenders in fixed fortifications to boot, it would still be a tough fight. After the battle upon the black ship with Ezekylus, they had lost six men. Out of nineteen, that was a major loss, especially for Trypho's squad who had lost five men out of their nine. Maccabeus had asked Trypho and Asramel to shuffle their men a bit to even it up, and as a result each had six men now, not including the Sergeants. Mattathias was of course as good as a full squad, and he had Thasis' Grey Knights squad too.
The only problem was, the only real path up to the fortress was a straight line up a narrow bridge that was fully covered by lascannons, bolters, and assault cannon positions; the enormous moat prevented them from simply finding another route, and of course the other side of the fort was a mighty cliff... An eminently defendable position and he had to acknowledge the traitors' ingenuity.
Ingenuity didn't work only for the other side, though, and that was why he'd just climbed up almost a mile of gorge. Using his wings wasn't an option unless he wanted to be blown out of the sky. What he was going to do, was get to an ideal position, and then fly up and destroy the controls for the automated bridge defenses. Trypho and Asramel, with their rocket launchers, were to destroy the weapons, and then Mattathias and the Grey Knights would charge; right now everybody was concealed under cameoline shrouds, creeping closer to the moat...
Judas looked down at his auspex; he was where he should be. The vox pinged, signaling Asramel was in position. Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted the death's head faceplate of his helmet and kissed his rosarius, activated it, and clapped his helmet closed. Standing, he let the cloak drop, and his wings unfurled, spreading wide. And he stepped out into infinity...
The wings bit into the air, and with a powerful boost they thrust him darting up through the air, crozius crackling. An Iron Warrior, surprised, looked over the battlement and Maccabeus' hand grasped his face, yanking him off the wall and into the air, screaming as he fell.
Rockets blasted from under the bridge, and struck the assault cannons first; the rapid-firing weapons could more easily target Judas than the slower heavy bolters and lascannons. As Trypho and Asramel's men reloaded hurriedly, the heavy bolters opened fire, splattering dirt around them.
Maccabeus' pinions bit into the air as he lifted himself further up into the air, and his arm reached back. With a blow of his crozius, he shattered the armoured window before him, and stepping through he charged the knot of startled Traitor Marines ahead of him, bellowing "For the Emperor and the Luna Wolves!"
The heavy bolters found their mark and Duomilleanno, the missile-equipped Marine in Asramel's squad, fell. Asramel shouted, "Move! Get away from him! He's hit the failsafe!"
The red light Asramel had seen on the missile in Duomilleanno's hand blinked twice, and exploded. Setting off his other rockets and grenades, shrapnel flew everywhere and two more Marines fell, the razor-sharp shards having found the chinks in their armour.
Judas emerged from the wall chamber, bloodied, and saw a sight that shocked him, and his hearts sunk. A Predator? And three Obliterators? The Emperor has a sick sense of humour, he decided, as he stroked his wings and sped towards the central keep of the fortress, bringing up his feet as fire cracked around him and crashing through the gates. In the dust of the demolished wood, he saw the cogitators manning the automated bridge defenses blinking. Maccabeus pulled a grenade and flung it, leaping backwards out of the keep as his wings spread once more...
The explosion from within was signal enough for the Luna Wolves. They charged, Mattathias and the Grey Knights throwing off their camouflage shrouds and leading the way up the bridge, Nemesis weapons hissing, and a mighty axe clenched in Mattathias’ fist. The gate erupted ahead of them, and the corrupted Predator tank charged through. With a bellow, Mattathias heaved up his axe, and brought it down on the Predator's cannon.
The autocannon sheared cleanly in half, and the blade continued, punching straight through its reinforced front armour as the Iron Warrior tank commander frantically fired its stormbolter at him, the bolter rounds bouncing off the Dreadnought's armour. A mighty heave, and the tank went over the side to explode deep in the moat, axe embedded still.
Charging onwards, the heavy bolters suddenly opened fire again-- some of the survivors had leaped to the guns once they died, unmounted them, and began firing them manually. The angry chatter of the heretic weapons ripped across the bridge, and Ismail and three of the Luna Wolves fell in the first salvo, but they pressed on, firing back when they could...
And Judas Maccabeus came sprawling out of the front gates, a bleeding Obliterator towering over him and bellowing. When it glimpsed the reinforcements, it lifted its arms and they began morphing and twisting into different weapons, and began firing at Mattathias. With a nimble leap, Thasis powered himself ahead of the Dreadnought and sank his sword deep into the beast's chest, shouting a powerful abomination as he ripped its head off.
Trypho lifted Judas up and rapidly looked him over-- his heart sank when he saw the crack through Judas' helmet, and the blood flowing from within... but he spoke! "Sergeant, help me up, damnit! There's more inside!"
"Yessir! Come on, let's get them!"
Judas' wing was broken, and the other missing feathers, but he ripped off his helmet nonetheless, and hefting his crozius he shouted as they charged ahead into the fortress. There, the other two Obliterators met them-- mutated brutes, fused with their Terminator armour, dimwitted but extremely dangerous nonetheless. One struck Avaran hard in the chest, crushing his Incinerator with what appeared to be a power fist; the flamer erupted, covering the two and Eleazar in fire. They fell; the heretic, though his flesh burned, roared onward as Mattathias opened fire with his assault cannon.
The other Obliterator backhanded two Luna Wolves across the courtyard, crushing them against a stone wall, and fired an assault cannon that formed through its skin, sending Asramel tumbling as Maccabeus closed in, swinging his crozius high. The creature grabbed his hand and squeezed, crushing the bones through his gauntlet... then he brought up the boltpistol beneath its jaw, and blew the top of its head off. Looking slightly dazed, its knees bent, and slumping forward, it fell.
The other had been fallen by Mattathias. Judas did a quick head count-- two Marines, Trypho, Asramel, Thasis and Alcimus, and Mattathias. They'd lost near their entire number... but they had succeeded!
And his nascent smile vanished as he turned around and saw the Terminator-armoured Iron Warrior Captain standing in the ruin of the keep.
The Iron Warrior's assault cannon snarled, and the Grey Knights grunted as its rounds penetrated their armour; Thasis remained standing, but Alcimus fell. Mattathias, out of ammunition, bellowed angrily and charged-- and a rocket detonated under his leg, blowing it off. Cannon rounds detonated in Maccabeus' legs, felling him to the ground.
Spinning, Trypho's boltpistol barked, and the crippled Iron Warrior fell at the door of their armoury... and dropped a grenade. They froze and then leaped for cover as the armoury detonated. A mighty shard of metal stabbed through Trypho's chest, and the Terminator fired again, ignoring the shrapnel that pattered off its armour, killing the two battle-brothers.
Asramel, furious, charged forward and swung his chainsword, but the Terminator was somehow faster and batted him aside with the still-rotating barrel of the assault cannon. He crashed into the wall headfirst, and slumped down, leaving a smear of blood.
A slow clicking came as the Captain undid his cannon-- out of ammunition presumably-- and let it fall. Advancing forward, he pulled a wickedly curved dagger, and grinning malevolently from the shadows of his armour, he hissed, "A good fight, bird-boy. Come, and die with honor..."
Judas coughed up blood, and having dropped his boltpistol, tried to reach his crozius with his good hand. Thasis stood up from besides Mattathias, and slowly, his Nemesis sword powered up. Advancing silently, the Grey Knight assumed a combat stance; the Chaos captain brandished his powerfist, and both of them twitched.
Maccabeus blinked, and Thasis' sword was sunk deep into the Terminator armour's breast. The Chaos captain had his power fist sunk deeply into the Grey Knight's neck. Wobbling back and forth, the Terminator slumped first, onto its knees and then collapsing slowly. Thasis knelt, and with an effort brought his arms up into the aquila as his head fell. A bubble of blood gurgled from his neck, and slowly popped. Judas whispered, "No..."
"Judas? Judas, you are still alive?"
Mattathias! Judas crawled over to the Dreadnought-- sure enough, he was still alive within his armoured shell, the rocket only having taken off his leg. The fortress suddenly silent, he rested a hand on the Dreadnought's body.
Mattathias quietly rumbled, "Help me turn over, Judas Maccabeus. I am about to die, and I would see the sky one last time." With a mighty heave, Maccabeus rolled Mattathias over, helped with a shove against the ground by the Dreadnought's powerfist. Controls hissed within, and the sarcophagus' front cracked open, releasing a wave of cold air. Judas pulled himself over the armour plating, and shoved the sarcophagus cover off.
Inside, Mattathias laid, bloodied where interface jacks had pulled out of his body. His eyes still shone their hard steel-gray. Thin lips pulled into a smile, one Judas could sympathize with. A bloodied feather fell into the sarcophagus from his wing, and Judas reached in to pluck it out; Mattathias' hand reached out and stopped him. "It... has been... an honour... to fight besides... you, Chaplain. Judas."
He didn't recognize the voice at first-- and then he realized it was Mattathias speaking, without the amplified bass lent to it by the Dreadnought vox-system. Unable to speak, he took his brother Astartes' hand, and gripped it tightly.
Eventually, he heard Mattathias shift inside the sarcophagus and asked, "Okay... in there?"
"Yes, Judas. Yes. I would not have believed this had I seen it before now..."
Maccabeus blinked and shifted position creakily, his wings scraping painfully against the stones of the fortress' flooring. Voice rasping slightly, he asked, "Seen... what? Tell me... what you're seeing, Mattathias..."
His voice suddenly stronger, Mattathias spoke: "A great sea beneath us. In front of us, a palace rises out of the water, a mighty pyramid of gold, arches and columns springing out of it all around, towers arising from the corners. We land at the very top of the enormous staircase arising to the pinnacle. Before us... in a line.... the Primarchs. Dorn, Guilliman, the Wolf, the Khan, the Lion... at the right hand... of Him."
Judas needed no clarification. Continuing, the warrior within the sarcophagus spoke, voice still strong but a sense of wonder beginning to fill it: "And at His left, shadowed by the Throne... statues. his favorite son. Lupercal... Curze... O Night Haunter, you have found the light at last? Tell me... did the Great Wolf... I see."
Mattathias fell silent; eventually, he resumed: "And the others stand upon His left hand. Behind him, and around the top of the palace, in ranks upon ranks, stand the Legiones Astartes. The bravest of the Guard. The stalwart Navy in their great ships.
"The Emperor steps forward, and... no, Lord... not I. I am not worthy..."
Unable to bear the curiosity, Judas rasped, "And what of the Angel?"
Lifting his head, Mattathias looked carefully at Judas, grey eyes clear. He asked carefully, "You wish to hear this?"
At Judas' halting nod, he went on: "The Lord of Angels, in his golden armour and leopard pelt, steps forward. He takes your hand, Judas, and the feathers of your wings begin falling, each one replaced with a ray of bright light. You lift into the air together as your feathers fall, as though they were snow, the light shimmering around you. The last feather falls, and it is almost too bright to see you, high above the palace now. And the Angel speaks thusly: 'Be free, my child. This gift was not thine, but thou hast made a great thing of it. Be free!'"
Some time later-- he didn't know when-- he spoke up. "Mattathias? Would you grant a last boon?"
"Of... course, Chaplain," the Marine spoke laboriously.
Judas cleared his throat, which caused him to cough as his breath caught; blood splattered across his crushed gauntlet. When he caught his breath, he went on, voice rasping, "I would rather be known as Judas Maccabeus, not another Sanguinius. The wings... I do not want to die with them on. I wish to die as I was born, human."
Mattathias said nothing, but nodded. He closed his eyes, pressed a control with the ruin of his arm, and the Dreadnought creaked and sat up, sliding Judas off to the blood-stained ground. He whispered, "I shall... need a blade." Judas nodded, and cast his eye about. Seeing Eleazar's axe stuck into the ground nearby, flung aside when he was immolated, he crept over and grabbed it. Dragging himself back to the Dreadnought, he handed the axe up; and as Mattathias moved the power fist to grip it, his ancient eyes asked whether Judas wanted this.
Silently kneeling before Mattathias, turning his back and steeling himself, Maccabeus gripped his crozius. Stabs of pain ran through his shoulder blades, staggering him; and the wings fell by his sides one by one. Sitting back against the Dreadnought, wincing only slightly as his shoulders met Mattathias' armour, he drew one of the wings to him and stroked it lightly.
As darkness fell, Mattathias murmured, "Bran! Njarl... Harald. Korai..."
And Judas Maccabeus, Chaplain of the Tears of Sanguinius, passed unto the Emperor's embrace. Mattathias Istheyanou, Lieutenant of the Luna Wolves, followed shortly afterwards.
In the trees in the distance, a pair of distance-viewers descended slowly from alien eyes, cold but not without compassion; and the Ranger, Tahal’var, murmured to herself in the tongue of the eldar, “A valiant battle. Mon-keigh… but still brave for all their youth. They shall be remembered.”
Epilogue
When the Red Scorpions' drop-pods thumped into the dry earth surrounding the fortress, they discovered the bodies undisturbed. The heretics' had rotted and turned purulent; but the Luna Wolves' remained uncorrupted, though it had been several months.
The Iron Warriors were flung into the pits of the fortress, and the edifice was brought down atop them. A powerful poison was set into the ground for a half-mile around, that none would approach and be corrupted by the ruins of the Chaotic fortress.
Justiciar Keevan Thasis and Brothers Pace Alcimus, Eleazar Tetragrammato, Ismail al’Gaius and Avaran Vanas were conveyed quietly by a ship of the Ordo Malleus to Titan, where they were interred in the crypts of the Grey Knights with all the honour and rites thereof, and their work entered in the scrolls.
Judas Maccabeus, laid upon his wings, was returned to Baal, to be interred quietly with great honour in the crypts of the Blood Angels.
Mattathias and the Luna Wolves were buried in an enormous barrow by the quiet stream where they had planned their battle. Ages afterwards, the feral inhabitants would whisper about the mighty warriors buried within who came from the stars; they fought, and died to the last man, against the Devil-Giants. The Knights of Silver and their powerful weapons tore asunder their opponents alongside the Wolves of the Moon.
Foremost in their legend was the Winged Angel, who struck down the Iron Beast together with his mechanical brother-warrior. All this came from the Lady of the Forest, who had told their ancestors this fell tale eons ago in the past. This they would solemnly attest to, thumbing their palms and making the appropriate sign of reverence towards the Lady while touching their soul-stones.
"And that's the end of it, Stravo," Hammedatha said in quiet tones. Ezekylus, wearing a simple habit and sitting in the dormer window of the archives, grunted assent as Istvaran closed the tome.
~Fin~
Styx
Two weeks' travel out from previous location
Time on planet: 3 days, 8 hours, 25 minutes
Judas whispered on the vox, "Is everybody in place?"
"Trypho here. Yes."
"Asramel here. We'll be a bit, there's this minefield we have to cross. Will call in when in position. Out."
"Thasis and Sigma-Delta in place."
"Brother-Lieutenant Mattathias in position and ready."
"Roger everybody. We wait for Asramel and then when he calls in, we go. Understand?"
After the chorus of affirmation sounded, Judas sat back on his heels, perched precariously on a cliff ledge, cloaked in dark gray cloth that also covered his wings, appearing to be nothing more than a boulder. He reflected on the previous night when they came to a halt to rest and cement their battle plans...
"The Iron Warriors, even in our day, were determined builders-- they constructed their fortresses to last. It will not be easy to take this, Judas," Mattathias had intoned. Maccabeus had fired him an annoyed look and then asked the sergeants and Thasis what they thought, and much to his irritation, they had said broadly similar words. He swallowed his choler, though, and asked for their input. Together, they had hammered out a battle plan, using stones and a stump that happened to be on a mound of earth by a stream, much like the Iron Warriors' fortress was sitting on a cliff besides a gorge.
It wasn't a large fortress-- one of the Iron Warriors' pre-Heresy edifices, as Ezekylus had reported, from the days when they were spread all across the galaxy maintaining peace on worlds conquered by the Imperium. Maximum of fifteen men to be expected, and the activity their scouts had watched indicated probably less-- this world didn't need much to keep it pacified, and in fact only the Inquisition had known of this fortress being here, as Istvaran had confirmed.
However, as these were Iron Warriors, and defenders in fixed fortifications to boot, it would still be a tough fight. After the battle upon the black ship with Ezekylus, they had lost six men. Out of nineteen, that was a major loss, especially for Trypho's squad who had lost five men out of their nine. Maccabeus had asked Trypho and Asramel to shuffle their men a bit to even it up, and as a result each had six men now, not including the Sergeants. Mattathias was of course as good as a full squad, and he had Thasis' Grey Knights squad too.
The only problem was, the only real path up to the fortress was a straight line up a narrow bridge that was fully covered by lascannons, bolters, and assault cannon positions; the enormous moat prevented them from simply finding another route, and of course the other side of the fort was a mighty cliff... An eminently defendable position and he had to acknowledge the traitors' ingenuity.
Ingenuity didn't work only for the other side, though, and that was why he'd just climbed up almost a mile of gorge. Using his wings wasn't an option unless he wanted to be blown out of the sky. What he was going to do, was get to an ideal position, and then fly up and destroy the controls for the automated bridge defenses. Trypho and Asramel, with their rocket launchers, were to destroy the weapons, and then Mattathias and the Grey Knights would charge; right now everybody was concealed under cameoline shrouds, creeping closer to the moat...
Judas looked down at his auspex; he was where he should be. The vox pinged, signaling Asramel was in position. Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted the death's head faceplate of his helmet and kissed his rosarius, activated it, and clapped his helmet closed. Standing, he let the cloak drop, and his wings unfurled, spreading wide. And he stepped out into infinity...
The wings bit into the air, and with a powerful boost they thrust him darting up through the air, crozius crackling. An Iron Warrior, surprised, looked over the battlement and Maccabeus' hand grasped his face, yanking him off the wall and into the air, screaming as he fell.
Rockets blasted from under the bridge, and struck the assault cannons first; the rapid-firing weapons could more easily target Judas than the slower heavy bolters and lascannons. As Trypho and Asramel's men reloaded hurriedly, the heavy bolters opened fire, splattering dirt around them.
Maccabeus' pinions bit into the air as he lifted himself further up into the air, and his arm reached back. With a blow of his crozius, he shattered the armoured window before him, and stepping through he charged the knot of startled Traitor Marines ahead of him, bellowing "For the Emperor and the Luna Wolves!"
The heavy bolters found their mark and Duomilleanno, the missile-equipped Marine in Asramel's squad, fell. Asramel shouted, "Move! Get away from him! He's hit the failsafe!"
The red light Asramel had seen on the missile in Duomilleanno's hand blinked twice, and exploded. Setting off his other rockets and grenades, shrapnel flew everywhere and two more Marines fell, the razor-sharp shards having found the chinks in their armour.
Judas emerged from the wall chamber, bloodied, and saw a sight that shocked him, and his hearts sunk. A Predator? And three Obliterators? The Emperor has a sick sense of humour, he decided, as he stroked his wings and sped towards the central keep of the fortress, bringing up his feet as fire cracked around him and crashing through the gates. In the dust of the demolished wood, he saw the cogitators manning the automated bridge defenses blinking. Maccabeus pulled a grenade and flung it, leaping backwards out of the keep as his wings spread once more...
The explosion from within was signal enough for the Luna Wolves. They charged, Mattathias and the Grey Knights throwing off their camouflage shrouds and leading the way up the bridge, Nemesis weapons hissing, and a mighty axe clenched in Mattathias’ fist. The gate erupted ahead of them, and the corrupted Predator tank charged through. With a bellow, Mattathias heaved up his axe, and brought it down on the Predator's cannon.
The autocannon sheared cleanly in half, and the blade continued, punching straight through its reinforced front armour as the Iron Warrior tank commander frantically fired its stormbolter at him, the bolter rounds bouncing off the Dreadnought's armour. A mighty heave, and the tank went over the side to explode deep in the moat, axe embedded still.
Charging onwards, the heavy bolters suddenly opened fire again-- some of the survivors had leaped to the guns once they died, unmounted them, and began firing them manually. The angry chatter of the heretic weapons ripped across the bridge, and Ismail and three of the Luna Wolves fell in the first salvo, but they pressed on, firing back when they could...
And Judas Maccabeus came sprawling out of the front gates, a bleeding Obliterator towering over him and bellowing. When it glimpsed the reinforcements, it lifted its arms and they began morphing and twisting into different weapons, and began firing at Mattathias. With a nimble leap, Thasis powered himself ahead of the Dreadnought and sank his sword deep into the beast's chest, shouting a powerful abomination as he ripped its head off.
Trypho lifted Judas up and rapidly looked him over-- his heart sank when he saw the crack through Judas' helmet, and the blood flowing from within... but he spoke! "Sergeant, help me up, damnit! There's more inside!"
"Yessir! Come on, let's get them!"
Judas' wing was broken, and the other missing feathers, but he ripped off his helmet nonetheless, and hefting his crozius he shouted as they charged ahead into the fortress. There, the other two Obliterators met them-- mutated brutes, fused with their Terminator armour, dimwitted but extremely dangerous nonetheless. One struck Avaran hard in the chest, crushing his Incinerator with what appeared to be a power fist; the flamer erupted, covering the two and Eleazar in fire. They fell; the heretic, though his flesh burned, roared onward as Mattathias opened fire with his assault cannon.
The other Obliterator backhanded two Luna Wolves across the courtyard, crushing them against a stone wall, and fired an assault cannon that formed through its skin, sending Asramel tumbling as Maccabeus closed in, swinging his crozius high. The creature grabbed his hand and squeezed, crushing the bones through his gauntlet... then he brought up the boltpistol beneath its jaw, and blew the top of its head off. Looking slightly dazed, its knees bent, and slumping forward, it fell.
The other had been fallen by Mattathias. Judas did a quick head count-- two Marines, Trypho, Asramel, Thasis and Alcimus, and Mattathias. They'd lost near their entire number... but they had succeeded!
And his nascent smile vanished as he turned around and saw the Terminator-armoured Iron Warrior Captain standing in the ruin of the keep.
The Iron Warrior's assault cannon snarled, and the Grey Knights grunted as its rounds penetrated their armour; Thasis remained standing, but Alcimus fell. Mattathias, out of ammunition, bellowed angrily and charged-- and a rocket detonated under his leg, blowing it off. Cannon rounds detonated in Maccabeus' legs, felling him to the ground.
Spinning, Trypho's boltpistol barked, and the crippled Iron Warrior fell at the door of their armoury... and dropped a grenade. They froze and then leaped for cover as the armoury detonated. A mighty shard of metal stabbed through Trypho's chest, and the Terminator fired again, ignoring the shrapnel that pattered off its armour, killing the two battle-brothers.
Asramel, furious, charged forward and swung his chainsword, but the Terminator was somehow faster and batted him aside with the still-rotating barrel of the assault cannon. He crashed into the wall headfirst, and slumped down, leaving a smear of blood.
A slow clicking came as the Captain undid his cannon-- out of ammunition presumably-- and let it fall. Advancing forward, he pulled a wickedly curved dagger, and grinning malevolently from the shadows of his armour, he hissed, "A good fight, bird-boy. Come, and die with honor..."
Judas coughed up blood, and having dropped his boltpistol, tried to reach his crozius with his good hand. Thasis stood up from besides Mattathias, and slowly, his Nemesis sword powered up. Advancing silently, the Grey Knight assumed a combat stance; the Chaos captain brandished his powerfist, and both of them twitched.
Maccabeus blinked, and Thasis' sword was sunk deep into the Terminator armour's breast. The Chaos captain had his power fist sunk deeply into the Grey Knight's neck. Wobbling back and forth, the Terminator slumped first, onto its knees and then collapsing slowly. Thasis knelt, and with an effort brought his arms up into the aquila as his head fell. A bubble of blood gurgled from his neck, and slowly popped. Judas whispered, "No..."
"Judas? Judas, you are still alive?"
Mattathias! Judas crawled over to the Dreadnought-- sure enough, he was still alive within his armoured shell, the rocket only having taken off his leg. The fortress suddenly silent, he rested a hand on the Dreadnought's body.
Mattathias quietly rumbled, "Help me turn over, Judas Maccabeus. I am about to die, and I would see the sky one last time." With a mighty heave, Maccabeus rolled Mattathias over, helped with a shove against the ground by the Dreadnought's powerfist. Controls hissed within, and the sarcophagus' front cracked open, releasing a wave of cold air. Judas pulled himself over the armour plating, and shoved the sarcophagus cover off.
Inside, Mattathias laid, bloodied where interface jacks had pulled out of his body. His eyes still shone their hard steel-gray. Thin lips pulled into a smile, one Judas could sympathize with. A bloodied feather fell into the sarcophagus from his wing, and Judas reached in to pluck it out; Mattathias' hand reached out and stopped him. "It... has been... an honour... to fight besides... you, Chaplain. Judas."
He didn't recognize the voice at first-- and then he realized it was Mattathias speaking, without the amplified bass lent to it by the Dreadnought vox-system. Unable to speak, he took his brother Astartes' hand, and gripped it tightly.
Eventually, he heard Mattathias shift inside the sarcophagus and asked, "Okay... in there?"
"Yes, Judas. Yes. I would not have believed this had I seen it before now..."
Maccabeus blinked and shifted position creakily, his wings scraping painfully against the stones of the fortress' flooring. Voice rasping slightly, he asked, "Seen... what? Tell me... what you're seeing, Mattathias..."
His voice suddenly stronger, Mattathias spoke: "A great sea beneath us. In front of us, a palace rises out of the water, a mighty pyramid of gold, arches and columns springing out of it all around, towers arising from the corners. We land at the very top of the enormous staircase arising to the pinnacle. Before us... in a line.... the Primarchs. Dorn, Guilliman, the Wolf, the Khan, the Lion... at the right hand... of Him."
Judas needed no clarification. Continuing, the warrior within the sarcophagus spoke, voice still strong but a sense of wonder beginning to fill it: "And at His left, shadowed by the Throne... statues. his favorite son. Lupercal... Curze... O Night Haunter, you have found the light at last? Tell me... did the Great Wolf... I see."
Mattathias fell silent; eventually, he resumed: "And the others stand upon His left hand. Behind him, and around the top of the palace, in ranks upon ranks, stand the Legiones Astartes. The bravest of the Guard. The stalwart Navy in their great ships.
"The Emperor steps forward, and... no, Lord... not I. I am not worthy..."
Unable to bear the curiosity, Judas rasped, "And what of the Angel?"
Lifting his head, Mattathias looked carefully at Judas, grey eyes clear. He asked carefully, "You wish to hear this?"
At Judas' halting nod, he went on: "The Lord of Angels, in his golden armour and leopard pelt, steps forward. He takes your hand, Judas, and the feathers of your wings begin falling, each one replaced with a ray of bright light. You lift into the air together as your feathers fall, as though they were snow, the light shimmering around you. The last feather falls, and it is almost too bright to see you, high above the palace now. And the Angel speaks thusly: 'Be free, my child. This gift was not thine, but thou hast made a great thing of it. Be free!'"
Some time later-- he didn't know when-- he spoke up. "Mattathias? Would you grant a last boon?"
"Of... course, Chaplain," the Marine spoke laboriously.
Judas cleared his throat, which caused him to cough as his breath caught; blood splattered across his crushed gauntlet. When he caught his breath, he went on, voice rasping, "I would rather be known as Judas Maccabeus, not another Sanguinius. The wings... I do not want to die with them on. I wish to die as I was born, human."
Mattathias said nothing, but nodded. He closed his eyes, pressed a control with the ruin of his arm, and the Dreadnought creaked and sat up, sliding Judas off to the blood-stained ground. He whispered, "I shall... need a blade." Judas nodded, and cast his eye about. Seeing Eleazar's axe stuck into the ground nearby, flung aside when he was immolated, he crept over and grabbed it. Dragging himself back to the Dreadnought, he handed the axe up; and as Mattathias moved the power fist to grip it, his ancient eyes asked whether Judas wanted this.
Silently kneeling before Mattathias, turning his back and steeling himself, Maccabeus gripped his crozius. Stabs of pain ran through his shoulder blades, staggering him; and the wings fell by his sides one by one. Sitting back against the Dreadnought, wincing only slightly as his shoulders met Mattathias' armour, he drew one of the wings to him and stroked it lightly.
As darkness fell, Mattathias murmured, "Bran! Njarl... Harald. Korai..."
And Judas Maccabeus, Chaplain of the Tears of Sanguinius, passed unto the Emperor's embrace. Mattathias Istheyanou, Lieutenant of the Luna Wolves, followed shortly afterwards.
In the trees in the distance, a pair of distance-viewers descended slowly from alien eyes, cold but not without compassion; and the Ranger, Tahal’var, murmured to herself in the tongue of the eldar, “A valiant battle. Mon-keigh… but still brave for all their youth. They shall be remembered.”
Epilogue
When the Red Scorpions' drop-pods thumped into the dry earth surrounding the fortress, they discovered the bodies undisturbed. The heretics' had rotted and turned purulent; but the Luna Wolves' remained uncorrupted, though it had been several months.
The Iron Warriors were flung into the pits of the fortress, and the edifice was brought down atop them. A powerful poison was set into the ground for a half-mile around, that none would approach and be corrupted by the ruins of the Chaotic fortress.
Justiciar Keevan Thasis and Brothers Pace Alcimus, Eleazar Tetragrammato, Ismail al’Gaius and Avaran Vanas were conveyed quietly by a ship of the Ordo Malleus to Titan, where they were interred in the crypts of the Grey Knights with all the honour and rites thereof, and their work entered in the scrolls.
Judas Maccabeus, laid upon his wings, was returned to Baal, to be interred quietly with great honour in the crypts of the Blood Angels.
Mattathias and the Luna Wolves were buried in an enormous barrow by the quiet stream where they had planned their battle. Ages afterwards, the feral inhabitants would whisper about the mighty warriors buried within who came from the stars; they fought, and died to the last man, against the Devil-Giants. The Knights of Silver and their powerful weapons tore asunder their opponents alongside the Wolves of the Moon.
Foremost in their legend was the Winged Angel, who struck down the Iron Beast together with his mechanical brother-warrior. All this came from the Lady of the Forest, who had told their ancestors this fell tale eons ago in the past. This they would solemnly attest to, thumbing their palms and making the appropriate sign of reverence towards the Lady while touching their soul-stones.
"And that's the end of it, Stravo," Hammedatha said in quiet tones. Ezekylus, wearing a simple habit and sitting in the dormer window of the archives, grunted assent as Istvaran closed the tome.
~Fin~
Last edited by Elheru Aran on 2006-08-28 07:26pm, edited 1 time in total.
It's a strange world. Let's keep it that way.
Dammit... you shouldn't make the Eldar cry. 
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
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Vanas
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Aure entulva, Mattathias. 
Good work, El.
Am I the only one who sees the Grey Knights pulling human pyramid-like poses in the psker battle?
Good work, El.
Am I the only one who sees the Grey Knights pulling human pyramid-like poses in the psker battle?
According to wikipedia, "the Mohorovičić discontinuity is the boundary between the Earth's crust and the mantle."
According to Starbound, it's a problem solvable with enough combat drugs to turn you into the Incredible Hulk.
According to Starbound, it's a problem solvable with enough combat drugs to turn you into the Incredible Hulk.
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Elheru Aran
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YES!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Elheru Aran
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 13073
- Joined: 2004-03-04 01:15am
- Location: Georgia
Nah.Comosicus wrote:Are you jumping on the Prequel bandwagon? Not that I mind too much
More like I wanted to explore the Mattathias character more. It strikes me that out of the rest, unlike Thasis or even Sergeant Trypho, he's more interesting, more memorable... I think the character's worth finding out about, don't you think so too?
It's a strange world. Let's keep it that way.