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This, my friends, is going to be a series of short stories which detail the rise and fall of Raymond the Templar, who of course is a Black Templar of the Nathaniel Crusade. Hopefully you will all enjoy it, this is the first that I have wrote about the Templars so comments will be more than welcome 
Brother Raymond of the Black Templars stared at the verdant forestry before him, hands clasped beneath the folds of his cream robes. The winds swirled around him with loud, deafening howls and Raymond grimaced as the cold tendrils slipped along his face. He was an handsome fellow with a grey tinged beard, the original obsidian of which was already retreating so that it formed a narrow band around his delicate lips. His eyes had whitened with age and now the iris had became a palpable grey. These features were all but hidden beneath his crimson trimmed hood however, which had cast his forehead and right half of his face in shadow. The rain began to hit him hard. Oh, how he remembered the rain of Illixia…
Three Hundred Years Previously, Illixia Prime.
The rain hammered against the armoured form of Raymond, who was crouched behind a fallen marble pillar with his Neophyte, Guy. He gave a quick glance around the shattered edge but was forced back into cover by a great stream of weapons fire. Guy was shooting his Bolt-Pistol blindly and wildly, however twice he opened up enemy Cultists like gory flowers. Raymond cocked his Bolter and tapped Guy upon his heraldry-devoid shoulder pauldron, his ceramite encased fingers resounding loudly.
Guy’s head twitched towards him hastily and Raymond crooked over, staring into the handsomely tanned complexion of his fellow. Guy was of nobility and his features mirrored that perfectly, his high cheekbones and broad brow clearly showing his origins. Raymond had chosen Guy six months earlier and this was their second military adventure together, and has he had previously proven, Guy was an exemplar warrior. The rain continued. It was not water however but a steady downpour of glass and ash, of which would lacerate any unprotected flesh. The Cultists, who were aligned to the Pantheon, did not care however.
They relished in the pain however and stood there spread eagled, allowing their flesh to be rendered. Brother Gregor screamed suddenly and tumbled forth, clutching a abrasion in his chest plate. Blood trickled downwards across the Imperial Aquila stitched across his chest and he roared, firing his Bolter one handed into the Cultists arrayed beneath a protective awning. His Neophyte, Zaal, grappled his mentor into cover with a growl and landed hard between a pair of emerald pillars.
‘Guy you need to flank these dogs, they are hampering us! Take Zaal over there with you, me and Gregor shall provide a distraction’ bellowed Raymond over the gunfire, his mouth barely three inches from the ear of Guy.
The Neophyte nodded his braided head and ran off towards where Zaal and Gregor were situated and he mouthed what his Master had planned. Zaal and Gregor both nodded, the former of which took off with Guy down a adjacent alleyway while the latter moved off to join Raymond. The drizzle of glass had eased slightly, and now the tinkering against the armour of the Templars had slowly dulled into nothingness. Gregor went un-helmed and now his face was a pulsating red mass of raw flesh and revealed musculature.
Yet he did not care and grinned cheekily as he slipped in beside his closest friend, clasping gauntlets with his fellow. Both had served together for the best part of a hundred years and were considered all but veterans amongst the Crusade of Marshall Nathanial. The blonde mane of Gregor was pink with blood and dripping thick strands of ichor onto the black veined marble beneath their feet. He let a magazine fall from his Bolter and slipped another one home with an audible click.
‘You ready for this, Greg?’ asked Raymond quietly as the sound of a hundred running feet echoed loudly.
‘Err….It depends on what that would be Ray’ chuckled Gregor and winked, nodding his head as he did so.
With that both Astartes stood, cream robes fluttering and Bolters shouldered. The enemy looked bewildered at the sight of the Templars, who simply howled a prayer to the Emperor and fired. A chattering, incoherent firing that sounded in the hazed city for seemingly an eternity.
++++++++
Guy and Zaal were thundering along the wounding alleyway at a pace, their Chainswords slick with gore. They had both clasped their helms onto their heads when leaving, and they were now dented and mangled. One Cultist stepped in the way of Guy from a half rotten wooden door and hefted a rifle up, his nimble fingers tightly wrapping around trigger of his weapon. Guy didn’t bother to halt and split him from shoulder to hip, leaking steaming organs onto the glass littered ground.
The man let out one last agony rife scream as he collapsed amongst his fetid organs. The alleys were growing tighter around the pair of Astartes until they could no longer charge side-by-side and their pauldrons were peeled of lineage by the enclosing walls. Another Cultist stepped out before Guy and he swatted him into the wall with his Bolt-Pistol, crushing his forehead into chips of bone and chunks of flesh. The body slumped and Guy heard the crunching of bones as Zaal simply trampled over it, eager to get into the battle.
A large metal gate rose up from the glassed ground before the pair, a narrow slit of which bisected it across the top. A pair of curved eyes looked at Guy from within and he grinned. The Marine fired his Bolt-Pistol mercilessly, rupturing metal and ending with a wet splash. The Neophyte lashed out three times and the metal split apart, but it was only when Guy kicked hard that it fell inwards. The two Astartes were met with turbulent gunfire. It completely enveloped them and sent both Marines tumbling into cover towards either side of the doorway, between concrete slabs and the wall. Zaal had fallen in after Guy and was cursing loudly, staring at a slither of blood on his forearm.
Neither of the Marines could get a bearing as the slabs they took cover behind began to wither into nothingness. Both Marines angled their white crested helms towards each other and nodded. With a cry of battle upon their lips they flipped over with their Chainsword bearing hands bearing purchase on the slab and Bolt-Pistols chattering. The rounds of Guy struck home, those of Zaal did not. That was because Zaal was now held in the clawed talons of a skin-wearing giant, clad in bronze and bone. Two curled hones rose up from its surprisingly human face, although the maw was filled with row upon row of glittering fangs. Pauldrons displayed a world in the mouth of a being, and instantly Guy knew what had ensnared his Brother.
World Eater. Damned of Angron. Scourge of the Imperium. The World Eater’s grip tightened around the trachea of Zaal who was squirming wildly, his weapons discarded and both of his hands wrapped around the giant wrist of his enemy. The eyes of the Chaos Marine swirled with yellow flames as the World Eater lifted a Chain-Axe in its other hand, the metallic teeth of which were hissing loudly. It was turned on its side to face the exposed flank of Zaal. Guy tried to run but found his muscles assailed and collapsed, shrouded in a veil of Cultists who lashed and kicked.
A vein bulged in the forehead of Zaal beneath his helm. Darkness clouded his vision. The World Eater laughed manically and brought its weapon into the side of Zaal, eating at the armour. A spurt of blood flung outwards and Zaal screamed in agony as his ribs and lung collapsed, his flesh dangling limply. The World Eater let his enemy how and tossed him away into the closest wall, turning his attentions towards Guy. The Cultists parted and Guy realised that death incarnate walked towards him, both of his skeletal hands wrapped around his Chain-Axe.
The depraved Marine stood above him, staring down upon his felled foe. He lifted his weapon above his head, the teeth crackling together. He laughed and prepared to bring it down, muscles contorting. And then his head exploded in a shower of gore, disappearing until only the ragged stump of a neck remained. The Marine contorted onto its knees as blood bubbled down its armour and finally gave into the temptations of the Warp, bursting with ethereal purple flame. Guy looked around and found the blood dotted face of Zaal looking at him.
His helm was held loosely from numbing fingers and he nodded to Guy before letting himself fall onto the ground face first, his organs spilling from the rent in his flank, and died. Guy felt anger well within him as he stood and spun his Chainsword around, cutting throats and ripping guts. He saw the windows before him, all of which had shattered inwards. In the street outside he watched as Gregor and Raymond fought back-to-back, Bolters roaring at their hips. It was glorious…
Brother Raymond of the Black Templars stared at the verdant forestry before him, hands clasped beneath the folds of his cream robes. The winds swirled around him with loud, deafening howls and Raymond grimaced as the cold tendrils slipped along his face. He was an handsome fellow with a grey tinged beard, the original obsidian of which was already retreating so that it formed a narrow band around his delicate lips. His eyes had whitened with age and now the iris had became a palpable grey. These features were all but hidden beneath his crimson trimmed hood however, which had cast his forehead and right half of his face in shadow. The rain began to hit him hard. Oh, how he remembered the rain of Illixia…
Three Hundred Years Previously, Illixia Prime.
The rain hammered against the armoured form of Raymond, who was crouched behind a fallen marble pillar with his Neophyte, Guy. He gave a quick glance around the shattered edge but was forced back into cover by a great stream of weapons fire. Guy was shooting his Bolt-Pistol blindly and wildly, however twice he opened up enemy Cultists like gory flowers. Raymond cocked his Bolter and tapped Guy upon his heraldry-devoid shoulder pauldron, his ceramite encased fingers resounding loudly.
Guy’s head twitched towards him hastily and Raymond crooked over, staring into the handsomely tanned complexion of his fellow. Guy was of nobility and his features mirrored that perfectly, his high cheekbones and broad brow clearly showing his origins. Raymond had chosen Guy six months earlier and this was their second military adventure together, and has he had previously proven, Guy was an exemplar warrior. The rain continued. It was not water however but a steady downpour of glass and ash, of which would lacerate any unprotected flesh. The Cultists, who were aligned to the Pantheon, did not care however.
They relished in the pain however and stood there spread eagled, allowing their flesh to be rendered. Brother Gregor screamed suddenly and tumbled forth, clutching a abrasion in his chest plate. Blood trickled downwards across the Imperial Aquila stitched across his chest and he roared, firing his Bolter one handed into the Cultists arrayed beneath a protective awning. His Neophyte, Zaal, grappled his mentor into cover with a growl and landed hard between a pair of emerald pillars.
‘Guy you need to flank these dogs, they are hampering us! Take Zaal over there with you, me and Gregor shall provide a distraction’ bellowed Raymond over the gunfire, his mouth barely three inches from the ear of Guy.
The Neophyte nodded his braided head and ran off towards where Zaal and Gregor were situated and he mouthed what his Master had planned. Zaal and Gregor both nodded, the former of which took off with Guy down a adjacent alleyway while the latter moved off to join Raymond. The drizzle of glass had eased slightly, and now the tinkering against the armour of the Templars had slowly dulled into nothingness. Gregor went un-helmed and now his face was a pulsating red mass of raw flesh and revealed musculature.
Yet he did not care and grinned cheekily as he slipped in beside his closest friend, clasping gauntlets with his fellow. Both had served together for the best part of a hundred years and were considered all but veterans amongst the Crusade of Marshall Nathanial. The blonde mane of Gregor was pink with blood and dripping thick strands of ichor onto the black veined marble beneath their feet. He let a magazine fall from his Bolter and slipped another one home with an audible click.
‘You ready for this, Greg?’ asked Raymond quietly as the sound of a hundred running feet echoed loudly.
‘Err….It depends on what that would be Ray’ chuckled Gregor and winked, nodding his head as he did so.
With that both Astartes stood, cream robes fluttering and Bolters shouldered. The enemy looked bewildered at the sight of the Templars, who simply howled a prayer to the Emperor and fired. A chattering, incoherent firing that sounded in the hazed city for seemingly an eternity.
++++++++
Guy and Zaal were thundering along the wounding alleyway at a pace, their Chainswords slick with gore. They had both clasped their helms onto their heads when leaving, and they were now dented and mangled. One Cultist stepped in the way of Guy from a half rotten wooden door and hefted a rifle up, his nimble fingers tightly wrapping around trigger of his weapon. Guy didn’t bother to halt and split him from shoulder to hip, leaking steaming organs onto the glass littered ground.
The man let out one last agony rife scream as he collapsed amongst his fetid organs. The alleys were growing tighter around the pair of Astartes until they could no longer charge side-by-side and their pauldrons were peeled of lineage by the enclosing walls. Another Cultist stepped out before Guy and he swatted him into the wall with his Bolt-Pistol, crushing his forehead into chips of bone and chunks of flesh. The body slumped and Guy heard the crunching of bones as Zaal simply trampled over it, eager to get into the battle.
A large metal gate rose up from the glassed ground before the pair, a narrow slit of which bisected it across the top. A pair of curved eyes looked at Guy from within and he grinned. The Marine fired his Bolt-Pistol mercilessly, rupturing metal and ending with a wet splash. The Neophyte lashed out three times and the metal split apart, but it was only when Guy kicked hard that it fell inwards. The two Astartes were met with turbulent gunfire. It completely enveloped them and sent both Marines tumbling into cover towards either side of the doorway, between concrete slabs and the wall. Zaal had fallen in after Guy and was cursing loudly, staring at a slither of blood on his forearm.
Neither of the Marines could get a bearing as the slabs they took cover behind began to wither into nothingness. Both Marines angled their white crested helms towards each other and nodded. With a cry of battle upon their lips they flipped over with their Chainsword bearing hands bearing purchase on the slab and Bolt-Pistols chattering. The rounds of Guy struck home, those of Zaal did not. That was because Zaal was now held in the clawed talons of a skin-wearing giant, clad in bronze and bone. Two curled hones rose up from its surprisingly human face, although the maw was filled with row upon row of glittering fangs. Pauldrons displayed a world in the mouth of a being, and instantly Guy knew what had ensnared his Brother.
World Eater. Damned of Angron. Scourge of the Imperium. The World Eater’s grip tightened around the trachea of Zaal who was squirming wildly, his weapons discarded and both of his hands wrapped around the giant wrist of his enemy. The eyes of the Chaos Marine swirled with yellow flames as the World Eater lifted a Chain-Axe in its other hand, the metallic teeth of which were hissing loudly. It was turned on its side to face the exposed flank of Zaal. Guy tried to run but found his muscles assailed and collapsed, shrouded in a veil of Cultists who lashed and kicked.
A vein bulged in the forehead of Zaal beneath his helm. Darkness clouded his vision. The World Eater laughed manically and brought its weapon into the side of Zaal, eating at the armour. A spurt of blood flung outwards and Zaal screamed in agony as his ribs and lung collapsed, his flesh dangling limply. The World Eater let his enemy how and tossed him away into the closest wall, turning his attentions towards Guy. The Cultists parted and Guy realised that death incarnate walked towards him, both of his skeletal hands wrapped around his Chain-Axe.
The depraved Marine stood above him, staring down upon his felled foe. He lifted his weapon above his head, the teeth crackling together. He laughed and prepared to bring it down, muscles contorting. And then his head exploded in a shower of gore, disappearing until only the ragged stump of a neck remained. The Marine contorted onto its knees as blood bubbled down its armour and finally gave into the temptations of the Warp, bursting with ethereal purple flame. Guy looked around and found the blood dotted face of Zaal looking at him.
His helm was held loosely from numbing fingers and he nodded to Guy before letting himself fall onto the ground face first, his organs spilling from the rent in his flank, and died. Guy felt anger well within him as he stood and spun his Chainsword around, cutting throats and ripping guts. He saw the windows before him, all of which had shattered inwards. In the street outside he watched as Gregor and Raymond fought back-to-back, Bolters roaring at their hips. It was glorious…