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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
I wrote/am writing a short story series (really wrote an RP no one else joined in on Nationstates) about this legion and thought I'd slap it up here for you (my fellow 40k lovers) enjoyment. Please post comments, criticism and questions regarding the Legion as well as individual characters as I still need to hammer out all of the kinks.Also this appeared to be the right forum, if I'm wrong please tell me since this is my first time here. EDIT: It's the II Legion not the III. Wrote it months ago and forgot which was one of the lost legions. EDIT 2: Also forgive the repetition of adjective, it seems only a few months ago I had yet to learn the art of using Flashing only once in a sentence.

The Beginning​

The Primarch Zeta stood aboard his battle barge, it orbited the Planet of Turgov, the new home planet of the Death Cult legion of Space Marines. He gazed down at his planet, his marbled ashen features sometimes compared to Mortion his brother Primarch of the Death Guard, true the Death Cult and the Death Guards bore many similarities, but the Death Guard emulated the methodical approach of Death, and the Death Cult emulated the fury of the grave. Zeta stared at his planet and thought of his legions history.

The Death Cult had been at the forefront of the Great Crusade, claiming large swaths of territory for the Imperium on the eastern fringe of the Galaxy, world after world succumbed to the finesse and fury of the Death Cult, until Horus the great usurper began the civil war against the Emperor, what would come to be known as the Horus Heresy, the Death Cult received word from the Emperor to turn about and assist the Space Wolves in the purgation of Prospero the home world of the Thousand Sons space marine legion. En route to Prospero the mighty Death Cult flotilla was lost in the warp, the marines battled the non-ending tides of Gibbering Daemons for weeks finally exiting the warp with two thousand marines, where once was ten thousand.

The Legion exited the warp in an uncharted system in an unknown corner of the galaxy, there were planets that showed evidence of human life, an unknown dead hive world renamed Noctis, a cold death world renamed North Turgov, and the only planet to still have human life on it Turgov itself, the marines and Primarch Zeta fought a remarkable lightning campaign that installed them master of Turgov with millions of cultists to serve the death cult, but slowly in various engagements against pirates and battles like when the entire legion was deployed to North Turgov to fight off a greenskin invasion, Marines died, the once proud and mighty legion was now a skeleton of it’s former self, with only one thousand marines left Zeta decided he would take two hundred marines and seek out contact with the rest of the imperium, several ships had already been sent out, the most recent under Brother sergeant Sebastian, but there had been no contact with any of the ships and Zeta was growing impatient.

Zeta quickly stepped through the science lab, his aids were always showing him the various ways to augment his massive human armies, but what he wanted was to make more marines and reforge his legion, the civil war was raging in the imperium and another space marine legion would tip the scales firmly against Horus. He screamed at his scientists again, telling them how no matter what combat drugs and armor they put a human into he just would never be an adeptus astartes. He finished screaming and walked off through his palace, everywhere his cultists worked and his marines trained, the dark black power armor made his men almost blend in with the dark marble walls. Zeta walked quickly into the command center of his palace, the few Tech marines were busy plotting satellite launch dates and manning sensor arrays, he stormed in towering over the two meter tall space marines he seemed like a father to his children. They all resembled him since they all had come of his genetic makeup inside of them in their Gene seed, that is what the legion lacked, the gene seed from the fallen brothers was being lost more than it was being reclaimed, they needed a way to produce more of it, they needed technology.

Zeta flashed back to the present, he had boarded his battle barge the Fury of Death and with two hundred of his remaining one thousand five hundred marines. They would scour the galaxy for either the imperium of the Technology they needed, his navigator a sickly little man shrieked as he was bolted into his chair, the metal rods holding him down going right through his spindly little hands. A tech marine stopped and asked his Primarch Zeta, “Where to sir?” Zeta paused and said, “To Noctis first, we must search within our system before we carry the search beyond."

The battle barge orbited over the dead hive world, Zeta gazed out at the planet through one of the sensor arrays,smoke still drifted from ancient industrial fires that still burned, broken buildings loomed like broken teeth out of the darkness. The entire hive was centered around a massive fortress, anti air batteries that still covered the sky, the ancient machines still performed their task and made it impossible for the Death Cult Legion to land on Noctis.

Zeta smiled as he said, "Markus, you are in command of the fleet, I am taking Squad Alpha and landing, we will make our way to the fortress and disable the anti air batteries." Markus said nervously, "Sir, we have no idea of whats down there, remember The Blood Angels' accursed legion on Murder..." Zeta motioned to him to stop talking, he slowly said, "I am landing with Alpha squad, there is no discussion here." Markus looked like he would say something but Zeta finished the conversation and said, "If you question me again I will shoot you and tear your gene seed out myself." Markus instead said, "Yes sir I will command the fleet." Zeta smiled and walked quickly to the hanger, his marines had to jog to keep up with their Primarch. He pushed his way into the drop pod as did the rest of the squad. Preparations were made then the drop pod shot out of the hanger, rocketing down towards the streets of Noctis.

The pod smashed through a decrepit Hab, smashing all the way down to the ground level. The bolts holding the panels in shot off, and the squad under Zeta pushed their way out of the pod and out of the hab, the decrepit moldy building smelled of old death. The squad ran out the street, the ancient evidence of warfare were everywhere, ancient skeletons held decrepit ancient weapons, burned out tanks sat as silent guardians of the hive's streets.

The squad ran off through the streets, Zeta saw people out of the corner of his eye, they were being followed, but by whom or really what was impossible to tell, but Zeta said slowly over the vox, "We're being followed, head for that large manufactorium to the west." A flash of confirmation runes flashed on Zeta's helm, the Death Cult legion Marines did not talk much, they were Death's followers and Death came silently. the squad ran into the factory, the massive machines were decrepit and broken, the massive pistons and presses rusted to the point where they were little more than junk.

Brother Tor the grizzled veteran slowly walked to a rust door, he kicked it in and smiled when he saw that is was the basement. "Sir I found something." He voxed to Zeta, the rest of the squad followed, Brother Tor closed the door and the squad secured the relatively small basement. Zeta Smiled and said, Tor, Egor, Groton keep watch, the rest of our brothers will sleep, as will I.

Zeta sat on the ground, he as a Primarch did not need sleep, but it was luxury he would partake in. He drifted off to sleep quickly, he could will himself asleep and yet he remained alert, he didn't want an ambush in his sleep. Zeta saw a bustling hive, all was serene, people went about their lives in relative comfort, but then Zeta saw the end of this pleasant hive, Cultists, chaos worshipers flooded out of the buildings, killing everything in sight, Daemons sat atop piles of human heads and the Traitor legions were here, Zeta saw a flood of Angron's children, he had always disliker Angron, he fought with the savagery of a mad dog, and did not pay homage to the glory of death.

Zeta saw legions of cultists fighting Imperial soldiers all across the Hive world, the fortress was the last bastion of the Imperium, Millions of soldiers fought hundreds of Millions of Cultists and Daemons, the fortress was build by the Iron Warriors, second only to the Imperial Fists in their Fortresses, the cultists could not breech the massive fort, so they pilled millions of corpses in front of the main gate, seven stories high, with the children of Angron atop it, like masters of an unholy siege tower. They called praises to their dark god of slaughter, then each one by one ritually cut the head from the man next to him, the last one of the World Eaters was obviously a grizzled veteran, he called out to Khorne, and a dark Booming laugh sounded from beyond the veil of reality, a dark purple beam of lightning shot out and struck this veteran in the chest, the Warrior fell to his knees, shrieking in pleasure and pain as his bones elongated, his skin grew leathery hard, and he turned to a Demon prince totally. With the transformation complete he stood and boomed out to his amassed millions, "KILL, KILL,KIIIIIIILLL!!" His massive hoard charged forth, the daemon prince smashing the walls of the fortress with warp fire, melting the steel and stone with a whim. The imperial garrison fought like devils, but were worn down to nothing, The Daemon roared and a massive warp riff began to form, the purple haze of the imatrium soaked the blood soaked fields of battle, the Daemon roared and as he turned Zeta could see his own features on the Daemon's face, he shook awake but still heard the dark booming laughter of the god of slaughter.

Zeta formed the squad up, all of the Marines had had a similar dream, and it unnerved Zeta, space marines did not know fear, but this heightened sense of things was the closest they could get. The marines slowly opened the heavy rusty door to the basement, and before them stood, a child, a thin malnourished pale child. Zeta stared down at the small human, before his eyes the human opened his mouth wider than it should have gone, with a loud crack the child's jaw snapped and a dark scratchy voice projected from him, the demon voice said, "Welcome children of death, my lord has been waiting for you for a long time, and he wishes to send his greetings to you Zeta, born of the corpse god, child of dea-" The child Demon would never finish, for Zeta had drawn his war scythe and severed it's head, the lifeless body fell to the ground but it still stirred, the squad crept closer, but a hand made of solid darkness punched out of the former child's stomach, the blood that fell out was ancient, little more than red dust, the daemon tore it's way out of the body, it's long head almost coming into view before Zeta said, " Sargent Tor get your flamer on that abomination!"

Tor stepped forward, he lowered his flamer and burned the beast, he screamed the new litanies of hate and fury as he hosed the unholy being. The daemon screeched, his cries ascending into a spectrum of hearing beyond even a space marine, finally the solid darkness that made up the daemon dissipated, it leaked away like smoke and gave off the stale odor of rotten flesh. Zeta turned to his men and said, "My sons we must not let the great enemy tarnish our resolve, for we are death, and none can resist the grave." His marines all nodded, only Tor was allowed to speak, it was one of the privilege of rank, he said to Zeta, "My lord, should we not contact the fleet and tell them of our find?" Zeta nodded and said, no Tor it is but one daemon, we have already sent it back to the warp." Tor nodded and made the sign of the Aquila saluting Zeta.

The squad jogged off down another street in the dead hive, the fortress was still miles and miles away, the dark city seemed to change it's distances at will. There had been no more Daemons or walking dead, but Zeta still felt like something was watching him and his men. They ran for the entire period of Daylight, and it seemed like the fortress was no closer. Zeta once again ordered the Marines to find shelter, the squad located an ancient Arbites precinct, they walked inside slowly. The black armored skeletons held combat shotguns and bolt pistols, the Marines looted their corpses taking all the ammunition they could find for their bolt guns and several of the Death Cult grabbed Shotguns as well. They pushed deeper and deeper until finally finding the command room of the Precinct, they engaged the perimeter defenses and Brother Egor reprogrammed the automated defenses to recognize the Marines. Zeta pulled off his helm which was a skull shaped visage, much like a chaplain's but much larger and all but the face was black. He smiled to his assembled sons his marbled features making his smile seem more like a grimace. He ordered the other half of the squad to keep watch and once again settled down to sleep.

The first thing Zeta could see was war, in front of the Imperial palace the traitor legions and the Loyalists battled for control of the Imperium, Zeta saw his father the Emperor kill Horus aboard his battle barge and he saw him enthroned and entombed upon the golden throne. The civil war that Zeta's legion had to get back to was over. He saw next the imperial scribes writing a great list of the Heretics and Loyalists, one of the scribes an ancient man who's gray hair was tied to his chair quietly asked a question of his Brother Primarch Roboute Guilliman, "My lord, what of Zeta and his legion?" His brother frowned and said they must've fled into the warp for no communication has been received, mark them traitor and burn all history of their legion, they are beyond the emperor's light." The scribe wrote them upon the list of Heretics and traitors, forever exiling them from the Imperium and marking them enemies of Humanity.

Zeta awoke in the private chamber he had chosen for himself, he screamed and punched through the wall, he knew that what he had seen must surely be the truth, he cried out in his fury, "Father, why have you forsaken me?" A dark voice that surely did not belong to the Emperor boomed out, "See the weakness of your Father? You kill for him, you conquer for him and yet you are tossed aside. Kill for me, rule for me, destroy for me and I will honor you forever, you will be truly immortal, beyond the weapons of the weak mortals who infest this plane of existence, you legion will be replenished by my servants, you will have legions of mortals who will die for you and will be master of a thousand worlds, you will be synonymous with the word death, if you but serve me, serve the lost god, Malal." Zeta slowly raised his head and said, "Yes."

Zeta stood before his marines and told them of what he had seen, but it seems Malal had already visited the other brothers and all converted them to him. The squad affirmed their loyalty to Zeta and Malal by carving the mark of Malal upon their chests, after this ritual was completed they set off from the ancient Arbites precinct. The street before the precinct was bleaker than when the Death Cult came in, perhaps it was Malals unholy touch. The various colors of the world changed to different shades of gray, Zeta turned and gazed at his men, they were the darkest black, their features only visable if Zeta focused on them specifically, it was like Malal had placed a lense over his eyes that showed the colors of the subjects gods.

The squad ran on, Zeta gazed ahead, following a dark gray trail along the lighter gray of the landscape, it was almost like a pathway to the fortress. Zeta turned his head and looked at the fortress, it was dark red, like the color of old blood. "Khorne." The word just appeared in his head when he saw the fortress, Zeta then immediately knew his mission, deep in the fortress lay a daemon prince, once a warrior of the World Eaters the massive Daemon now ruled the dead hive as a king. His eyes seemed to zoom in and he saw the legions of warriors and daemons that the Death Cult would have to overcome, Zeta smiled for he knew Malal would aid his warriors soon enough.

The squad covered miles and miles following the unholy pathway, it led them though habs and factories, through streets and alleys, but abruptly the path ended, Zeta looked all around searching for the path but it was ended,the fortress was before them, still four miles distant across a hellscape of ground, piles of severed heads and skulls were strewn about, gysers shot flame high into the heavens and the cold skeletal voice that Zeta determined must be a shadow lord one of the greater demons of Malal said, "My lord spoke to your entire legion personally, and they have accepted your new God, Malal has gifted them with the knowledge of how to make the mark as you did, and has given them his unholy sight like you now have, they can see you from your battle barge, who's machine spirit has also been turned, call them on the vox, for your landings will be obscured by unholy shadow." Zeta nodded, he slowly said over the vox, "Markus, land our men here." There was a slight pause then Markus said, "Yes my lord, Malal has shown us where to land." Zeta clicked off the vox and smiled as he saw that a dark cloud had risen aorund the landing zone, the shadow lord said, "Your enemy will be great, but know that every one of your marines who falls will be resurrected in the warp, Malal will hold them ready until you find a sorcerer who can open a rift blessed by Malal with two of his artifacts." Zeta nodded and said, "After the battle we will worry about this, for now we will prepare for battle." The marines under him took up positions all across the small square they were in.

The drop pods and thunder hawks from the fleet were landing, their dark gray paint job replaced by one of black and white. After an hour of landings the entire army of one hundred and fifty marines formed up, the men of squad alpha each led a detachment of Marines, they were the first to receive Malal's blessing and thus were now Zeta's commanders. The great host formed up and began to slowly trudge towards the Fortress in a great phalanx, daemons of Khorne howled and tried to engage the Death Cult, but they were blasted apart by the bolter fire from the Marines. as they neared the Fortress a great horn sounded, millions and millioins of Cultists and Daemons of Khorne assembled before the fortress two miles still from the host of the Death Cult, the Khorne-ate army swelled as more and more cultists climbed from the fortresses lower levels, Zeta could see that their numbers would destroy his host, and so he called to Malal imploring him for aid, the lost god smiled upon him as his own daemons formed, his army doubled in size but was still much smaller than the mighty army of the Daemon prince. Zeta could see the great rift in reality that was pouring more and more Daemons and cultists onto this planet, Zeta then saw six sorcerers, rare for Khorne-ate armies these pskyers were inside the fortress and where the only weakness of the enemy host.

Zeta turned his head to Tor the grizzled veteran who was now Zeta's champion, he said, "My favorite son, when the battle is joined infiltrate the enemy fortress and find the enemies sorcerers, there are six of them. It will be difficult but you must kill all of these bastards of Tzeentch and Khorne, striking two of Malal's hated kin will please him, and is the only way we can win this battle. After you do this I alone will fight the Daemon prince, for only I have to power to vanquish him and bind him to my likening. Tor nodded, he slowly said, "Yes my lord." The marine broke off from the host and headed for the fortress, he would need to hurry if he was to reach it before the Death Cult reached the enemy.

Tor ran, the dark red fortress was nearer than ever before, blood rained down from the heavens and gibbering Daemons watched him from above. He turned back for a moment and gazed at his Lord Zeta and the rest of the Death Cult, they were black as night to his Malal blessed eyes, bright streams of bolter fire stitched out from the Phalanx which was now only two hundred meters from the hordes of the blood god. The massed hoard of Khorne surged forward, the notorious fury and blood lust of the god of slaughter making his subjects prone to berserk rages. He turned and continued to climb he was only ten meters from cresting the walls, he pulled himself the last ten meters and dropped into the courtyard.

Zeta and the rest of the Death Cult advanced silently, their fury was articulated by the fire of their bolt guns, he raised his war scythe and let out one scream, a shrill call to beyond the grave, the call that would sound the end for millions of cultists. Malal smiled in his dark tomb of space, with a wave of his hand his servants to shadow beasts and shadow lords materialized alongside his newest soldiers, the death cult smashed into the enemy , hacking and killing their way deep into the unimaginably massive hoard. The enemy surged alongside the phalanx of death, they surrounded the entire death cult marines and their Daemon allies. Daemons if Khorne and Daemons of Malal fought, the fury of the blood god matched by the cold resolve of Malice.

Tor ran through the massive fortress, his Malal blessed eyes showing the location of the foul sorcerers, the unholy union between the powers of Tzeentch and Khorne creating an odd brown color, Tor whirled as he heard a patrol of cultists running towards him, he fired one round from his bolt gun and killed the lead man, he turned again and sprinted he had to kill those sorcerers. The cultists shouted and followed him, the fury of Khorne lent them speed enough to catch the marine. They swung at him but Tor's armor stopped their blades easily enough, he fired another round from his bolt gun, blowing the cultists brains onto the men next to him. The blood fury of Khorne surfaced at the worst time and the cultists began swinging at each other as well, Tor ran on leaving the now blood frenzied cultists behind him.

Before him was the massive warp rift, he could hear the scream of Daemons and the howl of lost souls booming out from the warp itself, he felt an unknown urge to leap into it, to lose himself in an eternity of slaughter and taint. He turned and stopped for a moment staring down into the rift seeing the true forms of madness. The cold voice of Malal himself sounded icy cold in his mind, "If you betray us, you will live an eternity of shame, complete your mission!" Tor shook himself and ran on. The unholy chamber was ahead, the silhouettes of the six sorcerers were in view, he kicked open the heavy bone door and saw before him the six sorcerers and one other, a son of Angron stood in the center of the room, his chain axe gore encrusted and massive. One blood shot eye stared out from the axe at Tor, it howled as the engine inside of it revved, the large marine turned to regard Tor. The small shred of a noble warrior left in the World Eater raised it's axe in a salute before charging at him with a howl. Tor met this howling warrior with silence as he drew his short combat blade, he fired round after round from his bolt gun, the World Eaters armor stopping the bolts easily. Within an instant the Marine was upon him he swung his axe heavily and Tor was forced to dive forward to avoid being cleaved in two, he rolled and stood the berserker howled again and charged him, swinging his Daemon axe in vicious cirlces around his body, Tor stabbed forward his combat blade slipping through the World Eaters guard. The small blade tore through the Marine's neck guard, but was stopped by the rock hard skin of the World Eater. the Berserker swung his axe upwards and snapped the blade of Tor's knife, Tor jumped back and frowned, how could he kill this beast of man?

Zeta was death incarnate, his scythe reaped a bloody tally as he killed man and Daemon alike, his legion followed him in silence, they killed and died without a sound. Khorne's host surged forward still, they died in their thousands but there were always more of them. The Daemons of Malal and Khorne battled still, the fury of a blood letter matched by the resolve of a shadow beast. Zeta's Malal blessed sight showed Tor's desperate battle against the Berserker, Zeta silently ordered two flying Shadow beasts to go to the man's aid, those sorcerers must die or the forces with Zeta would be worn down to nothing.

Tor danced around the Berserker, the large Marines swings were dodged by the more agile and faster Death Cult Marine, but finally the World Eater grew wise to Tor's tricks as he swung his axe one handed his Iron clad fist shot out and struck Tor in the chest he soared across the room and struck the far wall. He tried to regain his feet, but the World Eater stood over him, the big marine gave a loud shout of, "Skulls for the Skull throne!" and swung his axe down, millimeters before it struck Tor the two Flying Beasts of Shadow crashed into the World Eater, the Man's Daemon Axe clattered to the floor as he fought off the two beast. Before Tor's eyes the World Eater snatched one of the flying Daemons out of mid air and tore it in half, he threw the one half of the beast at the other flying Damon and grabbed that one as well, he tore the wings off of the beast and stepped down upon it crushing it to a broken pile of flesh. Tor saw his opening however he grabbed the Daemon axe and charged towards the World Eater, he swung the Daemon Axe into the Berserker's chest, the teeth of the Axe whining in protest as they ground their way through the cermite of the World Eaters Armor, the big man was not done though he punched Tor in the side, his fist crushing the side of Tor's black power armor. Tor drew his Bolt Pistol and jammed the muzzle into the hole in the World Eaters neck guard, he fired ten rounds, the bolts turning the Berserker's head into an unidentifiable red mush. He turned to the Sorcerers and killed each of them with the Daemon Axe, the floor shook as the Warp Rift began to close, The call of the blood god sounded stronger than ever, and the Daemon Axe let loose it's own call. Malal was powerless to stop Tor as he jumped from the tower into the Warp Rift, he was sucked into the realm of insanity and chaos without a sound. Tor had severed himself from the legion for all time and would go his own way. forsaking Malal and Zeta, he had embraced Khorne and the promise of Eternal slaughter, his armor turned from a deep black to a mottled red, like arterial blood, he howled he was free of the solemn worship of death, free from the legion and free from himself.

Zeta smiled as he saw the rift close, without it's constant source of reinforcements the Hoard of Khorne was finally being depleted, as the Death Cult and it's Daemon allies continued to push into the hoard. The cultist shrieked as they saw their were losing the battle, in their frustration they began to strike each other, the unreliable blood fury of Khorne showing it's ugly head again. Within seconds the battle turned from a battle to an unorganized Melee, with the few remaining Daemon of Khorne killing the cultists they were to supposed to be leading, and the very small number of World Eaters amongst the hoard were killing machines, killing hundreds of their own men. Zeta allowed himself to smile, the Death Cult had practically won.

The sun was bright on this new world, the hills were of black obsidian and the trees were massive skeletal constructions. The sky was home to flocks of flying Daemons and the rivers were of blood. Tor gazed all about him, before him towered a massive mountain, the rock was formed out of ancient bone and sinew. Tor roared and climbed the hill, fighting off the flying daemons with every step. He stood atop the massive monolith, he gazed down and saw a massive city cenetered around what seemed to be an arena of epic size. Tor howled again and set off towards the city looking for something to kill.

The Death Cult stood on the now silent field of battle, the cultists of Khorne were all dead and now Noctis belonged to Malal. Already the taint of the blood god was being replaced by the ashen oblivion of Malal. The fresh corpses of the cultists were fading to piles of ash, their weapons and gear rusted beyond use. Zeta stood before his assembled force, they had lost many brothers the force of one hundred and fifty now stood at only one hundred marines. Their ranks had swelled massively with Malal's Daemonic children, thousands and thousands stood, sat, flew and hovered all around the Death Cult. A particularly massive shadow lord slowly rumbled, "My lord Zeta, Malal himself has sent you these gifts." He slowly handed Zeta a massive bone scythe, it glowed with unholy power and as Zeta touched it he could feel the unimaginably ancient intelligence inside of it. Next the Shadow lord handed Zeta a single Gauntlet, it pulsed with ancient energies. The shadow lord waved his hand and a terrified Cultist materialized, he said, "Point it at him and concentrate it's energies." Zeta held out his hand, smiling as the cultist writhed in pain, he slowly disintegrated to ash, before finally blowing away. Zeta said, "Very good, Praise Malal." A cold skeletal voice sounded in his head, it was the unholy voice of Malal himself. "Zeta my champion, to replenish your legion you must find four artifacts, one form each of my hated brothers, bring them all to this your new fortress world of Noctis, and I will personally lead you in the dark rites." Zeta said to his new god, "Yes, my lord." Zeta turned and watched as the evil magics of Malal the lost god, the destroyer of all things turned the rest of Noctis to ashen wasteland, the mighty buildings turning to dust and in their place rose more towers and walls, the original continent sized fortress seeming small compared to the new bastion Malal forged. Zeta smiled for he and his Legion were now home.

Zeta surveyed his new domain, the entire world had crumbled to ash save the massive bastion that now housed the entire Death Cult legion as well as half of their human cultists. After much digging had been done ancient relics of unimaginable power had been uncovered but not understood. Massive obelisks had been found along with thousands of metal skeletons. The power of Malal melted them to pools of liquid turning them into various weapons before the eyes of the Death Cult. Zeta now was armed with one of these weapons, the regenerative metals served him well when he had the luxury of combat. The entire legion now bent itself to another task not one of hunting for technology but hunting for a lost brother hunting for Tor.

Tor howled it had been untold years since he had lost himself on the Daemon world. His once black armor was copper red, fresh coats of biological paint were added daily and in large quantities as he took part in the many slaughter games for Khorne. The area was a massive blood stained pit. He had fought for days on end killing and killing until now. His latest foe was brought before him. A fallen space Wolf named Etri, leader of the Bloody Wolves renegade company of space wolves.The wold eyed his rare armor forged and blessed by Daemons, he slowly said, "I will fight you for your arms, if I die you will have my wolves." Tor merely growled and raised his axe in a salute. Etri raised his sword and growled like a wolf as he circled Tor, slowly waving his chain blade from the left to the right. Etri screamed and swung his blade in a downward arc, aiming to split Tor in two. The Former Death Cult Legionnaire dived to the left and brought his Daemon Axe to bear, hammering the Space Wolf's defenses again and again. The Wolf recovered and struck back. The chain blade gouged chunks out of Tor's armor but Tor did not care. He grabbed the chain blade itself and laughed as the teeth struggled to tear through his gauntlet of Daemon done. He dropped his axe and punched Etri in the head again and again, finally he tore the Wolf's helm off and tossed it aside. Etri tried to draw his bolt gun but Tor leaned in and bit out the marines throat. His berserker strength made the struggles of a space marine seem like that of a tired child. He drank deep the man's blood and howled in victory. Etri's former pack howled back the Bloody Wolves now belonged to Tor, victory was sweet but not as sweet as blood.
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