Heres Chapter four, hope you like it!
Gorgan yelled in horror as the vile maggot things headed towards him. The air sizzled and the smell of burning meat rose into the air as the PDF troopers opened fire on the encroaching horde. Hundreds of the things died in the first volley, but there were more. Many, many more. The troopers started to reload as Gorgan drew a knife, the horde was metres from Gorgan now. Gorgan grimaced as las fire prickled the air in front of him. The second barrage cleared hundreds more, however it seemed as if the numbers of the tainted worms were increasing. They swarmed over the final metres to Gorgan, his blade glinted in light of the sun. PDF troopers and worm alike staggered as beams of blinding light skimmed across the building tops. Suddenly blinded the worms and PDF troopers clutched eyes and slithered in circles. It was sunset. The violent light from the world's sun seemed so much brighter, just for an instant. But that was all that Gorgan needed. Being a native he knew the customs of the sun. It would flare momentarily just as it descended under the horizon, the old ones believed it was their god exacting revenge for past crimes. The race had evolved and now, the light was completely harmless. He surged forward in a whirlwind of death, spinning and delivering knife blows to the worms as they reeled. When the PDF troopers finally regained their sight, all they saw were the littered bodies of worms. Up ahead Gorgan had continued, thirty minutes ago he had killed the last worm, now the moon ruled the sky. What he hadn't noticed was the now silver ichor spilling from the dead bodies. The PDF troopers bent down and examined the bizarre sight. In the shadows, in deep pools of the silver ichor two purple eyes blinked.
Jonas' helmet systems instantly adjusted to the blinding flash of light. But the shock still made him reel. Beside him Nikon cursed as the light hit his exposed eyes. He fell into a crouched position and growled, listening intently he scanned around him. Once he could sense no threat he slumped.
“I'm blind” Nikon gasped. “What happened Brother?”
“Seems like some kind of solar pattern.” Jonas frowned. “Are you capable of fighting sergeant?”
“My duty is not yet done.” Nikon stated with a steely resolve.
Nikon took to his feet and using hearing alone followed Jonas. They slowly rounded the corner, hugging close to the wall. Directly in front of him Jonas could see the massive gate. On either side stood two massive constructs, they belched dirty red smoke from the two exhaust pipes on their backs. Their claws clicked together impatiently and the sensors on their front surveyed the ground in the immediate vicinity of the gate. Totems hung from the plated bodywork and their six jointed legs. The armour was painted in many different colours, each heralding a chaos legion. Jonas spat on the ground at the sight of the foul things.
“What is it?” Nikon whispered.
“Nothing, wait here. I need to open that gate.” Jonas searched for grips on the wall.
“What gate?” Nikon said, a look of puzzlement on his face.
Jonas saw a servitor hatch in the wall. Just slightly ahead of him. It was wide open, Jonas didn't stop to think why it was open. He just stepped straight through. Into a large tunnel, it was runed in blood and it hurt Jonas' eyes wherever he looked. He closed his eyes, but somehow he could still see them, imprinted upon his vision. As clear as day. Jonas moaned, and in return he heard a moan back. It seemed to come from the very walls around him. He stopped. Frozen. His eyes scanned down the tunnel, searching for something, anything.
Timan gazed down at the silver ichor spilling from the worms and the great beasts. In the moonlight it had gone silver. Since they had last saw a lot more of the worms had died. Gorgan was nowhere to be seen. Timan heard a slurping noise from the side gutters, he looked into the shadows. Trying to make out what had made the noise. He searched for several seconds before dismissing the sound as nothing. He continued to study the pools.
“What the hell is it?!” a soldier said in bewilderment.
Timan gasped as he saw ripples moving through the ichor. Some other soldiers saw it too and all fifty eyes turned in the direction they were coming from. In the shadows something flickered. Guns raised, they slowly edged away, down the street. Stepping through the bodies. The shadows flickered again and a hissing noise escaped a duct under their feet. They heard splashes as whatever it was sprinted full pelt down the sewers. Timan shivered.
“Maybe we s-should go” A soldier whimpered.
Muttered approval passed between the men. Timan began to lead the way, the only direction in which the space marines could have taken. For laid out before them were three tracks. Two sets were heavy thick boots. But the other, was a path of slime.
Nikon stood by the wall, listening intently. He had no sight, it was just complete blackness. He knelt down and arched his head. He sniffed the air. Sensing nothing he began to chant. A vow from his initiation.
Jonas stood stock still, he could not move. Thousands of whispered voices spoke in his head. The voices of the dead and the insane, the trapped and the desperate all echoed throughout his head like some insane circus. He stood and shivered, his will beginning to falter. He grunted and took a step, the voices intensified. He kept up the laborious pace. But he seemed to be getting no closer to the exit. He moaned, and the walls moaned back. The sigils burned into his eyes. The tunnel seemed to violate all his senses, and some he didn't know he had. As he stood, about to finally falter. He heard the voice of an angel. A deep gruff voice at best, but an angels nonetheless.
“What is your life?” The voice echoed down the tunnel.
“My, honour is my life” gasped Jonas, panting with exertion.
“What is your fear?” the voice seemed to overwhelm all the others.
“My fear is too fail” Jonas grunted.
“What is your reward?” The voice penetrated deep into Jonas' mind.
“My salvation is my reward!” Jonas struggled.
The tunnel seemed to be getting shorter. The exit reaching for Jonas, the sigils dimmed.
“What is your craft?”
“My craft is death” Jonas shouted.
“What is your pledge?”
“My pledge is eternal service!” Jonas bellowed.
“What is your fate?” The voice seemed weaker now as Jonas exited the tunnel.
“Meus officuim est meus fortuna!” Nikon whispered in high Gothic. “My duty is my fate!”
Now you all know what the title means