Sealtiel was in full armour. His Inner Sanctum was silent. Its walls were lined with hundreds of alcoves each one containing a fanged skull with a name engraved upon it in High Gothic. Thousands of swinging candles slowly drifted around him as he knelt on one knee, his sword held in the palms of his hands and muttered “For Sanguinius and the Emperor I shall smite the Traitors from the material realm” his shield, which contained the blessed golden-white feather of his Primarch-Progenitor Sanguinius was attached to his left rise tightly.
The Flesh Eater placed the blade down and reached for the sparkling, marble goblet covered in shimmering gems and rubies on the alter in front of him. He pulled it towards his fanged mouth and placed the cold stone on his lips, he tilted his head back and let the ice cold liquid slip down his pale throat. He pulled away the drinking vassal, his lips flickered with red. The Astartes wiped it away with his forearm grimly and placed the goblet back on its altar next to a necklace of sharp fangs and stood, retrieving his blade and sliding it into his scabbard at his right side.
The Captain clipped his plumed helm at his side and turned, breathing in the incense drifting in the air. The Thane of Blood-Fall let his hair cover his face, only slithers of his extremely pale skin and black eyes still showed but that was enough to incite fear into the enemy on Ickvus 5 far below. Sealtiel walked towards the two giant golden doors that were flanked either side by a pair of statues of Sanguinius raising a sword into the air in his right and a laurel in his right, a pair of red glowing rubies embedded within its eyes.
The doors swung open automatically, a pair of Chapter Serfs in red and black uniforms pulling them apart to let a small gleam of dank light inwards. Sealtiel nodded to both men as he came into a banner lined hall that showed the Flesh Eaters many campaigns since their formation during the Third Founding. Some showed Astartes lifting dead Orks into the air by the throat, the giant creature holding on tightly to the Commanders wrist. Another showed a Chaplain landing on a Chaos Space Marine of the Word Bearers Legion, Crozius Arcanum crushing its horned helmet.
Sealtiel kept walking until he came into a much more darker section. It was filled with preserved Xeno corpses, many cut open they each floated in white glowing status fields. Some were long dead species exterminated by the Flesh Eaters, Razor Wings, Soul Reapers and many more. Others were more well known such as Orks and Eldar in all colours and allegiances. Others were simply weapons, all that could be saved from the dead. Only these Xeno mattered. Many more had been destroyed but those had not put up a good enough fight to be remembered.
The Astartes found himself remembering past battles as he left the Hall Of Remembrance and came out onto a large freight elevator that ran the height of the Angels Fury, it was covered in vehicles mostly Rhinos but a Predator and a pair of Whirlwinds idled in one corner, a Scout Squad standing guard nearby at a at ease stance with their Bolters and Shotguns pulled into the soft part of their elbow. The Captain nodded at their Sergeant, a dark haired and pale skinned Flesh Eater from the Tenth Company and grinned as the elevator stopped at the vehicle garage, the weapons of war revved their engines and drove through the large bulkhead doors.
After the vehicles and Scouts had departed the elevator continued onwards, passing great glass sections that showed vast hangers and cargo bays, thick metal ribs held the glass together. Sealtiel could see red dots far below, Flesh Eaters, training in hand to hand combat with each other. The elevator shuddered to a stop and Sealtiel stepped off into a skeleton filled hallway, each one had its hands clasped together and stared at the Captain with blank sockets as he walked down the hallway towards the giant golden doors that led onto the bridge.
The bridge was a vast expanse spanning nearly a entire football field, rows upon rows of consoles manned by Chapter Serfs spanned the distance. Servo-Skulls hovered around, scrolls hanging from them as they bobbed in amongst each other. Several Astartes moved along the rows, their faces obscured behind grinning masks. A giant Command Throne, with long metal rods reaching up to the cavernous ceiling sat in the very centre of the consoles upon a raised dais made of dotted marble. To the left of the bridge sat a giant metal obstruct, narrow slits were the only thing that let the crew see the depraved Navigators that dwelt within, the gibbering creatures twitching in the red light.
At the front and centre of the bridge was a giant glass circle that allowed the crew to see the space ahead. It also allowed them to see the cathedral like spires that rose up from the hull of the Angels Fury like raised fingers. Each one had dozens of small point defence cannons upon it, the larger guns being mounted at the prow and flanks of the ancient vessel. The Captain began to walk forwards swiftly, his leopard skinned cloak flapping at his heels. The Command Throne was currently vacant by both Sealtiel and the current master of the watch who was now where in sight.
The Throne was magnificent in itself. Its arm rests were formed from the gold tipped bones of Space Marines, each one a half spine and skull where his hands would rest. Now grooves were made in the skulls from the hands of a hundred commanders, all in perfect position. A pair of wings were engraved in its backrest, in the centre the words Pax Sanguinius. The Captain smiled and took a seat, four metal semi circles slid up from within its arm rests and wrapped around his lower arm, intergrading him with the ship.
Messages and information flooded through his mind, codes and letters. The Captain tried to pull himself up as pain flooded through his nerves, he sat back down and laughed slightly as he welcomed it and said in a voice that seemed as if a hundred people were talking “Order the Second to rendezvous at the Primas Hanger in a hour, I shall make planetfall” a series of affirmatives came from the closest Serfs and the shackles moved away from his arms letting him stand he stumbled first and then regained his balance and began to head to the Sacrificial Chambers.
The Chambers smelt of spilled blood. The Thane Of Blood-Fall entered, passing the pair of motionless Astartes standing guard and stared around the well lit area with squinted eyes. The room stretched off into the distant, hundreds of blood stained slabs lined it many containing torn open bodies. Human bodies. Standing over each altar was a Flesh Eater, a small triangular dagger in one hand the other hand holding a bitten heart. This was said by the Flesh Eaters to strengthen them in battle and help Sanguinius guide them, the sacrifices were each voluntary, Serfs who had served the Chapter long and had offered themselves up to the Flesh Eaters.
Heads turned towards him, their eyes wide blood dripped from their fang filled mouths. This was the Second Company. Each Astartes were veterans of dozens of campaigns, many were badly scarred but they bore these markings as signs of honour and purity. Sealtiel walked along the line, his head turned sideways he stared into eyes he knew all to well until he came to his own altar at the end of the line. A man lay on it, his eyes milky from drugs he gabbled something and stared into the light above, a single bronze blade lay at his side a jewel embedded into its hilt.
Sealtiel took hold of the blade with both hands and scanned it as he raised it behind his head and muttered “For the Emperor and Sanguinius” and brought it down just below the mans chest bone, the man thrust upwards his restrains holding him in place he pulled it upwards and shattered bone. The mans mouth opened wide and blood leaked out, before his head finally fell back and showed he had died. The Captain reached within the chest cavity and felt around until he found the heart, he wrapped his fingers around it and gently pulled it away ripping veins away.
The heart rested in his gauntlet peacefully almost like a red apple. The Captain bared his fangs and pulled it to his heart he bit down and sent blood cascading to his feet in great, shimmering droplets. Each of the seven that fell showed him a image, at first he thought it was him but then realised he did not see himself within them but rather the winged Sanguinius. A tear of blood rolled down from the corner of his eye, joining the rest of the blood at his chin. Sealtiel dropped the heart, having taken most of it away with one bite. The war was about to begin.
The hanger was a cave of activity. Some fifty of his normal Astartes, five Astartes from each Squad along with his Command Squad stood in line to pay Chaplain Castiel who was flanked either side by a pair of Serfs, each one holding a brown basin filled with blood the Chaplain dipped his finger tips within and marked the pale faces of the Astartes. Three Thunderhawks were now being pulled from their cave like bays by large four wheeled vehicles crewed by Servitors.
The Death Company stood alone. These were Castiel’s flock, each loved the intensity of battle and had either fallen to the Black Rage or Red Thirst. Their armour was not the usual of the Flesh Eaters but rather a obsidian black marked only with red streaks, dried blood. They had all once been noble Space Marines but now the curses had took their toll on them but still they were the Emperors Finest, willing to die in battle a thousand times for Sanguinius and the Emperor.
“Sealtiel. Brother!” The Captain spun and found himself face to face with the short haired Company Champion, and his Second In Command, Brother Uriel walk towards him confidently, his long blade holstered. The Thane Of Blood-Fall smiled and replied “Uriel is Jeremiah within the Thunderhawk? I would not want him to miss the landing” the Astartes bared his fangs in a wicked grin and nodded “Yes Lord, Jeremiah longs to bring the Traitors to their knees”.
Silence took over the pair of Brothers as the Command Squad, Sanguinary Priest Raphael in his polished white armour, Standard Bearer Ezekiel with the Second Banner folded in his left hand a Lightning Claw in his right and finally Honoured Brother Barachiel who had clipped his Bolt Pistol and Power Sword at his side. The Captain lifted up his Helm and placed it on his head, he twisted it and with a hiss of steam it twisted, green lights flashed and indicated his Combat Squad Sergeants were ready.
Then a message sparkled in his ears-
“Hail Brother Astartes, I am Sephial 4th Captain of the Blood Swords, who do I have the honour of talking to?”
Blood Swords, thought Sealtiel with a smile and clicked the Vox bead at the side of his Helm replied almost ghost like “Cousins. Sephial. I am Captain Sealtiel, Thane Of Blood-Fall. It is good to see we are not the only Sanguine Ones present on this forsaken world! I shall be leading a strike force to the Imperial Guard Headquarters if you wish to speak face to face I suggest you travel there” he cut off the signal and pointed at the Thunderhawks with a outstretched hand bellowing “Brothers! We make for the planet!” and ran towards the third Thunderhawk where the Death Company stood, all twelve of them kneeling before Castiel who swung a incest burner and read from the Tome Of Blood.
The Captain raised his hand to signal his Command Squad to stop and wait for the Chaplain to finish his sermon. After three minutes he had and the Death Company stood as one, swords pointed in at their leader and slammed their free fist into their chest before walking up the rear hatch of the Thunderhawk. As Sealtiel walked past the Chaplain he placed a hand on his shoulder pauldron and whispered something into his ear.
At the forward section of the Thunderhawk was the Dreadnaught Jeremiah, his sarcophagus covered in purity seals his arms each ended in a pair of Power Fists each with a under slung Heavy Bolter. Painted upon its front was a glorious image of Sanguinius holding a sword in hand, bright light shinning from behind him. The Primarch’ armour was covered in the blood of Traitors, a mound of dead Astartes under his feet.
The other two Thunderhawks each contained twenty five Astartes, twenty five of the Emperors Finest. The third contained nineteen of the best Warriors within the Flesh Eaters along with Jeremiah. The Thunderhawks were each pulled into a long tunnel, their pilots flicked controls and wrapped their hands around handles and with a mutter of “For the Emperor” ignited the engines and sent a blinding white blast out behind them.
The Thunderhawks were thrown from the ship, great vapour clouds billowing out behind them as they hurtled towards the globe that was Ickvus 5. They passed larger vessels on the way, Imperial Transport ships and other Astartes warships. They passed a Grey Knight Battlebarge, Sealtiel staring at it with hidden eyes. The transports broke through the heavy clouds, sending them rolling over their hulls as a large Imperial Base began to rise towards them.
The Transports came in low, skimming trenches and bunkers their expert pilots the only ones capable of doing such a thing. The Thunderhawks came into a mostly empty area but Sealtiel knew it would soon fill, he ran one hand through his plumed helm and clicked his Vox saying “Brothers, do not remove your helms even if asked to do so I do not want to be fired at by our own this day” several of the green lights flashed and showed the Sergeants understood before the Thunderhawk clanked to a halt and the rear hatch began to pull down, the Death Company and Castiel were already standing ready to fight for Sealtiel if needed.
The Astartes charged down the ramp, Combat Squads set up perimeters and began to contact each other with all clears as Sealtiel clambered down his own, Jeremiah and the Command Squad were now standing around their beloved Captain as Castiel and the Death Company moved closer. Suddenly nearby doors were thrown open and Loyal Imperial Guardsmen moved outwards, their eyes bright with fear at seeing so many of the holy Astartes in one place. Before this day was over they would see many more.
Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.
"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"
'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'
Last edited by dark angel; 01-16-10 at 11:59 AM.