Join Date: May 2009
Location: South Carolina, USA
Ptah could taste the excitement flowing down the mental link with his Captain. It was sharp and metallic, much like the taste of blood. Rak'an was eager to please the Primarch, and Ptah would not fail his Lord and friend in his quest.
The Black Ship hung in the void of space like a great wounded beast, vapour leaking from the rents in its metal flanks. He studied it with an impassionate eye. The beast was wounded, but not dead; it could still cause them trouble.
He focused back in on himself, reaching both inwards and out at the same time; with a twist of his mind the world fell away and the great ship hung before him like a ghost. Its hull was stained by countless deaths, glowing with anger and pain to his senses. Fear hung around the massive steel and stone bulk like clouds clinging to an uprooted mountain. Yet, there was a deeper darkness within the black holds that his eyes failed to pierce. His features distorted under the serene faceplate of his helm, twisting into a sneer of disgust at the thought of encountering a Pariah. The anti-psyker aberrant that sometimes spewed forth from the genetic pool of humanity were anthemia to everything he stood for as a noble member of the Thousand Sons legion.
He let himself fall back, tracing the glowing strands of his psy-being back to the living flesh that had clothed him for over a hundred centuries. He settled back into his body, the faint residue of warpfire flitting across the thousands of facets adorning the ancient plates and throwing off tiny broken rainbows of light.
He had only just opened his eyes again when the craft lurched and shuddered under impact with the Black Ship. Metal squealed as the torpedo chewed into the hull like a maggot into the belly of a corpse. There was a whump as the melta charges on the nose of the craft activated, vapourizing the remaining metal in a searing flash of heat and light. There was a long moment, filled with the hissing of hydraulics as the docking clamps sealed the breach, then the explosive bolts blew off and the ramp clanged down into blackness.
The harness released him from its arms like a spurned lover and he rose to his feet in a swirl of whispering white cloth. Wolfbane hung at his hip, the daemon-bound blades ripping with light. With a mental flick he brought it to his outstretched hand, the staff lengthened in his grip from under a meter in span to nearly his full height. The staff squirmed in his palm, it was hungry and he cooed to it gently while pulling his golden bolt pistol from its ornate holster with the other hand.
Brothers Dah'rak and Kel'arah sprang out of the craft and into the darkness, their weapons barking. Rak'an was close on their heels; his Lord was always one of the first through a breach. Ptah strolled silently behind the others, wary of the wardings they would soon encounter.
He swept down the ramp and into a room that stank of blood and fear. There were humans chained along the wall, he could feel their raw minds cowering in abject terror. It was a mortal response he had grown to expect over the numberless years and he ignored the whimpering forms in search of the real threat. His shimmering robes billowed in a phantom wind as he took in the entire room, the guards were being slaughtered like the cattle they were. Suddenly his mind was thrown back as he passed over a quivering man in black robes, Wolfbane howled in his mind at the touch of the psykic blank. The breast of the wretch's garments bore a stylized 'I' of the Inquisition. Ptah's lips pulled in a feral snarl.
The golden pistol spat in his grasp and the man's head exploded in a fine red mist. The blankness fled from the room with an almost audible snap and Ptah's mind was unfettered once again. He reached out to find death. A single guardsman was left alive. He touched the man's mind with a brief caress, brushing passed the feeble wards, and saw the gapping maw of Dah'rak's bolt pistol through the man's eyes. Dah'rak's finger squeezed the trigger and the pistol roared,
The mind shout was unfocused, piercing through ever mind present. The bolt from Dah'rak's pistol hung in midair, frozen as if projected by a holoslate. It was less than a millimeter from the guard's forehead. The man's bowls voided in terror.
Ptah spun and stalked across the room to the man, Dah'rak shied away and bowed his head in deference. The guardsman remained on his knees, quaking in his own filth, as Ptah towered over him. With a savage twist he ripped the remaining wards away in a burst of light and dug the cold talons of his mind into the man's thoughts. A line of blood appeared from the guard's nose as Ptah ruthlessly tore through his mental being. Finally, Ptah found conformation to his speculations.
He turned away with a nod, releasing his hold on the body and mind of the guard. The man blinked once before the bolt suddenly buried itself in his forehead and detonated.
He reached out a tendril of thought to Rak'an,
*It is as I feared, my Lord. The doors are bolted from the outside and the metal is laced with wards. I can break them and tear the portal asunder, but it will take precious time.*
Ptah turned towards the chained psykers and gestured with Wolfbane. The chains binding them shook as if gripped by a giant for a long moment, hot wards burning off their lengths, before shattering in a spray of gleaming shards. The prisoners were free.
Last edited by Euphrati; 08-26-09 at 11:40 PM.