I: The Ascension of Hebron Asyder.
Note: This story is a story about the rise of Warlord Hebron Asyder, Dark Apostle of the Chaos Gods. Those who do not like graphic scenes of bloodshed, violence and insanity, don't read on.
As the priceless artifacts were being discovered, one by one, the marines marched ever quicker through the dark ancient halls of the decaying Space Hulk. It's vastness was intimidating, even daunting at first. This is why Anradiel Merrick, Chapter Master of the White Horns was prepared to send all Available Terminators to various points on the ship, to exterminate any heretical presence which might of lingered there after the battle of Unkenntnis
That battle was a peculiar one to say the least. While the cult leaders summoned hoards of daemons that slowly brought the advance of the White Horns to a grinding halt, it came to be that just when the White Horns were being repulsed back to their drop sites that the legions of monsters vanished. Back into the warp from whence they came. Such was the folly of Chaos, or so Anradiel Merrick thought.
Victory, victory against the hoards of Chaos, an enemy this young Chapter had never faced before. An enemy it could not afford to lose too, but as Aradiel Merrick looked down on the dead planet bellow he remembered why he was leading his elite forces on this Hulk, it was just too coincidental that as the final victory came, the unidentified, seemingly deserted Hulk appeared, out of nowhere.
The Terminators traversed through the empty corridors and they found themselves faced with invaluable equipment, weaponry of thousands of years in age, still in perfect condition. All of this was to be marked down on a map, for later collection. But one thing shone out to Anradiel, an ancient Crux Terminatus necklace which lay delicately on the table of an abandoned med bay. It was illuminated by the red light which radiated off the planet bellow, a beautiful mix of red and gold combined in this piece of Jewelry, appealing specifically to the Chapter Master.
Anradiel took the neckless into his large hand and squeezed tightly, looking into the emotionless terminator mask of his lieutenant brother, he let out a few simple, but powerful words.
“Take this in the name of purity, marvel at it's perfection and think of the one God Emperor as we purge whatever plagues this most ancient of vessels.”
“Yes Chapter Master... I, we... We will purge whatever heretical beings lay in wait, if there are any at all.” The lieutenant said, feeling honored at this gift.
“Oh there are Urthin my brother, they are just so few in number they fear us and think that cutting our communications will stop us achieving total victory. “
“How do you know it's the forces Chaos my liege ?” Another terminator asked, aiming his assault cannon down the long, deserted corridor.
“For I can hear them, I can hear the heretics and their foul prayers echoing in my ears, their voices become stronger and stronger as we press onwards through the Hulk. Don't you hear them, brother ?” The Master asks this, his certainty draining, as he ended the sentence, but before anyone else could speak, Urthin raised his voice.
“Now you say it, I realize it, I can hear them, whispering to me, telling me lies and trying to distort my faith in the true God, the Emperor.” Urthin said loudly, and the veterans of the White Horns stood in an awkward silence, uncertainty and perhaps even fear ran through the veins of them all, their communications link to all other Terminator squadrons had been cut and now, they were hearing the prayers to the Dark Gods.
Invicticus's face was unrecognizable due to the blood and mutilation. His torso had been defiled even more, transformed into an altar of chaos undivided. The eight pointed star shone bright blue, and slowly spread across his body evenly, cutting the flesh as it traversed across the monstrous stripped and imprisoned Terminator who stood chained by chaotic forces on a platform, in the center of the converted hanger, infront of a crowd of fifty chanting heretics.
They prayed to Khorne for his blood, they prayed to Slaanesh for pleasure from the inhumane torture, they prayed that Nurgle infects his veins and beg that Tzeentch would write them in his later schemes and plans.
At the head of the congregation stood a tattooed, mutated man who had a nervous twitch, and four eyes and this was apparently proof of the Gods blessings. He shouted louder then the rest, made swift and powerful body movements to enthrall and enthuse his minions and unsheathed his sword for the final act of mercy to the fallen Marine, but this visage of authority was shattered as his head was pulverized by the merciless beam of the lascannon, fired from the ever evolving arms of an Obliterator, who was shortly followed into the room by a crimson armored marine who bore a burning book on his shoulder and mystical machinery that climbed up his arms and around his neck and then finally followed in by the the chosen of the Gods.
The fifty fell to their knees and attained silence as the three men walked to the platform where the now unconscious marine stood, his blood had not yet congealed and the apothecary sounded worried as he spoke softly, surprisingly soft, for one so lost in evil.
“My Lord, unfortunately I fear Larraman's Organ could be damaged from the torture.” He stopped speaking for a moment, as his mechanical arm started to hum, a long needle entered the flesh of the fallen marine, taking some of his precious blood. The Obliterator watched on, highly intrigued by the whole event, and then the puppeteer crossed his arms, ignoring the congregation which wished blessings onto him.
“No, no it is still active, everything is in order..” The Apothecary said after a minute or two, reading the data transmitted onto his transmitter. “It is just the magic of the Gods which do not allow him not to bleed at all... “ Silence ensued and the silent man smiled, and spoke for the first time in a deep, mystical voice.
“You are correct, but wait a moment, I want to speak to him, I want to ask him something.” He spoke loudly, and the cultists shuddered with every word that left his mouth, fearing and praying to the man who stood infront of them.
Turning around the Apostle faced the crowd, his beautiful face cracking into a gentle smile, his highly polished, undamaged armour glittered in the gloom of the Space Hulk. One of his many blessings from the Gods is to attain the appearance most preferable to him, and he took the most beautiful form in his imagination, to confuse and to infuse.
“You all fought, valiantly.” The Apostle said calmly, looking over the quivering wrecks of men who knelt in submission. “ It is not an easy thing to see your world burn, to burn for a belief in the Gods which offer what is unattainable by those who worship a man. Those who are believing in a system where those at the bottom can not reach the top. But, I assure you, Chaos, Chaos offers a path to those who are strong, and I tell you brothers, I tell you on this day, that you are strong.
You survived, you thrived and you felt the pleasure and wrath of the Gods on Unkenntnis and on this day you will feel all of this again, but today I offer something different, something which should inspire you to even greater feats.” The Apostle stoped speaking, his elegant features relaxing after the powerful speech, in which he still holds the complete sway of all those in the converted hanger, he takes a deep breathe in and points to the Apothecary. “We are willing to make those who survive this battle against the invaders Space Marines, Space Marines of the Gods, those who have brought power onto you already, but could bring so much more, and this is my offer to you all, kill and be rewarded...”
Anradiel Merrick looked down at the dead Word Bearer, his mutated armour was still crawling with life, so concerned were the marines that they found themselves shooting repeatedly the dead traitor, none of them had said a word after killing him and Anradiel found it that he should say the first word.
“Traitor.” Was all he could muster, he had heard rumors that one of the Traitor legions was sighted on the dead planet, that was partly the reason that the surface was virus bombed repeatedly till nothing lived. But now it was obvious that it was not just heretics that were to be slain, it was far more personal then that.
The Terminators all gifted insults upon the dead traitor as their auto cannons eventually pulverized the corpse until it was unrecognizable and could not be recognized as ever being a man, but Anradiel was more concerned with what was to come, the options were narrowing as they pushed further on, and now it was just one long corridor, he knew what was to come, a confrontation with Traitors. How many ? He couldn't say. But the six Teriminators all knew that there was to be a battle to be fought, but what they did not expect, was the scream which brought them all to their knees.
“Wake up !”
“Wake up.” The Apostle whispered gently into the ear of Invicticus but there was no response.
“Wake up !” The Apostle screamed, his screech permeated the minds of all those on the Space Hulk, ringing for an indefinite amount of time, making even the Obliterator stagger backwards and most importantly bringing the Veteran back to consciousness. The Veteran screamed and his body shook violently from the Word Bearers words.
Laughing insanely the Apostle cuped the Marines cheeks in both of his hands and screamed once more, his insanity now evident to all those present, as he said “ Who, is, your, God !?” There was completely silence as the Marine shook, it was not evident if it was either fear, or chaotic forces which made him look so weak.
“The Emperor, the Emperor is the only God of Humanity !” The defiant Marine spat into the face of the Apostle.
The Apostle froze, his anger and horror vanished into a look of shock, a look of amazement, he turned away from the Marine and glanced quickly at the Obliterator who stood there silently, and then to the Apothecary who watched on, and then he turned to the crowd who knelt in fear now, fear of their fate. But the Apostle laughed, he laughed, and was dieing for breathe at the end of it, his beauty now disfigured by the daemonic wails that left his mouth. The Heretics joined in and even the Apothecary aswell, laughing softly. Turning back to the Marine the Apostle grits his teeth and then says gently, and loudly.
“The Emperor, is a corpse, he is no God.” He smiles, and then continues speaking. “For if you knew, what I knew, if you had seen what I had seen, if you had had your faith... Shattered, infont of your eyes by your God, you would understand, but you will never understand, so I leave you with a gift, a gift from a God, who is a God, enjoy.” The Apostles right hand wraps around the skull of the Marine and he starts to speak in a foreign tongue, that of the daemons and the speech is sour as forbidden words are spoken, and the Gods themselves smile as the soul of a hapless daemon finds itself in the Marines body, fighting for control.
The Battle was about to begin, blood was about to roll and Hebron Asyder, Dark Apostle of Chaos was to prove himself once more in the eyes of the Dark Gods.
Part One. Chapter One