Extremis Diabolus [sci-fi] [9,000 word story] - Writers Forum

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:26 PM

Well, this is a sort of continuation of Extremis Diabolus (posted on here a while back, but I can't remember if it was the complete version or not...). It is Warhammer 40,000 based, so it may be a little unfamilar to those who haven't encountered it before. If needed I'll post a glossary after.

EDIT: Ahhh! Crap! I called the thread "Extremis Diabolus"! Can someone please tell me how I can change it?

Here it is:

Aftermath

Lucius stepped nervously through the blasted streets of the abandoned town. Ahead of him, Rahvin stalked onwards, his massive bolt pistol held in one gauntleted fist. Khul trailed behind, ponderously dragging his massive weapon, along with its ammo, with him. Lucius had wanted to bring more men; he had a good thirty trained cultists and at least twice that amount of mutants ready and waiting for just such a mission. Rahvin had forbidden it, though, on the grounds that it was stealth, not force, that was the main factor here.

Lucius passed the husk of what he thought had once been a shop. The windows were blown out and the grey stone walls were pitted and gouged. A stray stone fell, deep in the building, the tiny sound echoing through the silence that pervaded the once prosperous town. Looters and cultists had done this, raided the town, overwhelmed the local arbites, raped and pillaged their way through the streets, burning what they could not steal, then vanishing before the PDF could respond.

Of course, Rahvin had caused the destruction, that went without saying. He had worked up the tensions and violence within the local gangs, promoting conflict whilst appearing to quell it. The hate and aggression had built up and up until it reached breaking point. When it had broken, it was as if all the fears of a lifetime of nightmares had come to life and were walking the streets. Cultists openly displaying the marks of the Chaos Gods had risen up from the gutters, murdering, raping, burning, torturing, overwhelming the hysterical populace with pure ferocity.

This was all that was left of most of Pavonis VI's cities. Empty, barren streets and the age-old scent of dried blood, cloying in the stillness of the tomb-like town.

Movement.

Lucius span, bringing his lasgun to his shoulder and dropping to his knee. “Boss!”

“What?” Rahvin’s reply was low and threatening, unwilling to accept distractions now.

“I… I saw something,” said Lucius, his voice betraying his nervousness at Rahvin's anger. “Over there, behind that house. I swear it.”

“You better have…”

“I swear, boss. I saw it.”

Rahvin gestured with his free hand. “Show me.”

* * * * * *

Grath crouched behind the shattered wall, clutching his old, much-repaired autogun. They hadn’t seen him. He was sure.

He flipped his comm down over his eye. The wavy image of his commander floated on the screen. “Sir.”

“Yes?” The voice that emerged into his ear through the microbead speaker was hazy and indistinct, distorted by static and the distance between them.

“I have located the target. The magus is accompanied by two others, a cultist and a mutant, both armed from what I saw. Sector four-eighteen…”

His voice trailed off as he heard the target’s voice over the intervening terrain. Damn. They had spotted him. He shut off the comm, hoping the general would understand, and pressed his back up against the coarse brickwork of the building. The General would have other Operatives in the area, all of whom would recieve the coordinates of the target. He had fullfilled his objectives.

Thinking fast, he climbed over the lowest point in the wall, a section that had been knocked in, or exploded, as the to half was gone and all that remained was a jagged v shape. Slipping up to the roof of the building, he tried not to make a sound. He slithered over the cold, battered steel of the roof.

He had to try to take the taget group out. Somehow. He wasn't going to get all of them, but he could get one, maybe both of the followers. He knew he didn't stand a chance against the Magus. Who to attack first? The cultist? Might be fast enough to stop his attack. And how deadly was one man with a lasgun, anyway? The mutant, then. That cannon would make a mess of the PDF forces that were surely en route. And something that bulky, with a weapon that heavy, couldn't be very fast, surely?

He tensed, preparing to spring. Sniping would be too risky. If he missed they would know exactly where he was, and they would kill him. He readied his autogun.

He would have only one chance at this.

* * * * * *

Lucius was almost to the side of the building when he glimpsed a dark shape fly off the roof. He whirled, just in time to see it slam into Khul, the muted thump of autogun slugs sounding from the tangle of limbs and flesh. He heard Khul screech in pain, then the assailant was thrown upwards, propelled into the air by Khul’s mutant strength.

The attacker hit the ground with a slap, his weapon skittering across the paving slabs. Lucius whipped his lasgun around, aiming it at the gasping figure.

“No!”

The command was loud and harsh, echoing over the rubble as Rahvin strode forwards, pistol held towards the man. Their assailant struggled to rise, groaning with what Lucius thought was a broken rib or two.

“You are a brave little man. Three of us and only one of you? How good of you to waste your last hours of life trying to rid the galaxy of scum like me.” Rahvin smiled indulgently at the man. “Of course, there will be more of you. You wouldn’t have attacked if you were the only one.” He picked up the man's autogun. “And by the look of this, you’re military. The General’s finally found some guts, then. No matter.” Rahvin looked down at the straining form of the man. “I will be gone from here in a matter of hours, and with me will go your precious planet.”

The man found strength to reply, his voice thick, filled with confusion. “The…the planet? What d-do you mean?” He coughed, blood spraying from his lips.

Rahvin laughed, the sound harsh and filled with the promise of bloodshed. "Did you really think I would fall for that? You must be even more of an imbecile that I had thought." He glared at the man. "I know your comm is on, just waiting to transmit my plans to your General's ears.

Lucius watched as Rahvin bent to the man, picking the comm from his ear. He raised it to his eyes, pressing the activation rune. A hazy image appeared before Rahvin, recognisable as the General of the PDF.

The General’s voice was surprised and angry. “Grath? Who is this?”

Rahvin smiled at the comm, but there was no warmth in his expression, only the cold inevitability of death. “Hello, General."

“Grath...? Damn! You shall pay for your treachery, heretic!”

Rahvin pressed his pistol to the quivering man’s forehead. “Don’t despair about your man, General. His death will be much quicker than yours, I promise you.” Rahvin squeezed the trigger.

The bolt detonated in the centre of the man's head. His face disappeared, obliterated by a cloud of shrapnel, smoke and blood. The deafening sound bounced around the surroundings, echoing off buildings and down streets. The smell of propellant and burned, shredded flesh filled the air.

“Good bye, General.” Rahvin threw the comm to the floor, then crushed it beneath his armoured heel.

Turning to Lucius and Khul, who was just recovering, the gaping wounds in his belly sealing themselves with inhuman speed, Rahvin gestured with his smoking pistol. “Move out.”

* * * * * *

General Wylk turned to his staff. They were clustered in the far corner of the command section, huddled away from his anger. He would not get angry. He couldn’t afford to get angry. But damn it, Grath was dead. He had been one of the General’s best Operatives.

Not any more.

Of course, there were other units in the field, even within one or two sectors of the traitor, but none of those were as good as Grath. None of them had been with him for nigh on ten years.

He stared blankly at the cowering aides cringing away from his burning eyes. “You all saw that.” They all nodded frantically. “Then why aren’t you doing something about it?” he exploded. “I shouldn’t need to order you to do every little thing! Get the damn PDF down here! I want men, tanks, aircraft, the lot! I mean to wipe that heretic from the face of this planet!”

He glared at the immobile officers and aides. “Well? Get moving!”

He used his anger to quash his grief. He turned back to the comm station and pounded his fist into the steel that held it against the wall. He would see that traitor dead. For the total chaos he had brought to the streets of Pavonis VI, but also for another.

He would do it for Grath.

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:27 PM

The rundown building atop the hill had been a church once, before the riots. Strange to think they had been only a month before. Some were still ongoing, but for the most part, their ferocity had forced them to burn out quickly. After all, what do you destroy when the whole town is gone?

The floor was covered in broken slabs of granite, slabs that had once been the floor. Now, however, they simply lay atop a sheet of steel reinforcement that had been laid long ago to stop the building collapsing or sliding from the crest of the hill. The corners and sides of the building were littered with broken shards of stained glass, the windows having been smashed in by the rioters. Dust lay thick on everything, a rough coating that turned everything the smoky grey of smog, blending with the granite stonework of the walls and what remained of the floor.

Lucius glanced towards Rahvin. The magus had walked straight through the mess and right up to the back wall, where he stood before the altar. Slowly, he drew his ravening sword, the myriad hungering mouths that covered its edge gnashing at the cloying, dead air. Lucius grimaced as his master began to speak in hushed tones, guttural syllables falling from his daemonic visage.

A white shape flashed across the window in front of Lucius. Turning to the others, he whispered “The PDF are here.” He took cover below the sill of the arched window. “Khul, cover the door, but don’t let them see you until I say. Boss, how long you gonna be?” He flipped the selector on his lasgun, setting it to single fire.

Rahvin did not turn, or even answer. He simply waved his arm back at Lucius, all the while chanting in that grating tongue. Lucius shrugged to himself and turned back to Khul. The mutant was huddled in the shadow of one of the thick supporting columns, readying his cannon. Lucius nodded and risked a glance over the windowsill. He glimpsed another white shape, this one scurrying into the cover afforded by a blasted hab. He surveyed the scene, taking stock of the situation.

There were at least fifty of them, just from half-seen flashes of white armour among the ruins. More were probably already hidden, waiting to strike.

Rahvin better have a way out, or they were screwed.

Lucius thought frantically, trying to figure an approach to the situation that wouldn’t result in getting killed. He glanced around the church, looking for another exit. Nothing. Not even a basement. He turned back to the window, crouched out of sight of the soldiers moving up outside.

He winced as the rumble of an armoured vehicle echoed across the area, accompanied by the crunch of breaking rubble and crushed stonework. How was he going to get out of this? He had a couple of krak grenades, but nothing that could really hurt vehicles. Khul’s cannon could do some damage, but if it wasn’t from behind they would still die, and how could Khul get behind when they were surrounded?

He risked another glance out of the window, and saw the PDF spreading out to search the rest of the buildings, slowly but surely moving nearer and nearer to the church.

If he could have brought more men, they could have surrounded the PDF. He had some men with rocket launchers that could have taken out the vehicle, and the troopers would have fallen to the mutants and his men. Damn Rahvin and his stealth. They were dead anyway.

He turned to Khul. “You still got that comm set?”

* * * * * *

“I want everyone you can get down here, now! Bring the missiles, grenades, everything! We’re surrounded by the PDF, troops and vehicles! Sector four eig-“

The voice cut off in a hiss of static and Tayne looked down at his comm operator. The man, an ex-PDF trooper with scales covering most of his face and disappearing beneath the battered, slate-grey chest plate of his almost-complete armour, tapped the comm set a few times, then checked it over.

“Nothing, Sir. The feed just got cut off from their side.” He glanced at Tayne. “I can try to reply, but it might not get through, or their unit could be turned off. What do you want to do?”

Tayne paced the up and down the cold floor of the abandoned factorum. He cast his eyes over his assembled men, two score soldiers, trained to the best of his, and a few others’, ability and equipped with the pick of all the looted weaponry. Behind them was a sprawling mass of mutants, the repressed given a chance to fight against the hated Imperium that forced them to live lives of squalor, armed with whatever they could find, clubs, knives, the occasional pistol or rifle. They were almost impossible to count, but Tayne reckoned there were about sixty or seventy of them. Then behind them, there were his elite's. These were the men, and mutants, that Tayne had hand-picked for advancement, showing promise and loyalty to Chaos.

They were equipped with the finest weapons, coupled with the most complete sets of the best armour, matt-black carapace from the PDF’s grenadier squads. Of course, Rahvin, their most esteemed master, was ignorant of this particular unit. They were there in case the Magus ever got it into his twisted head that Tayne and his men could be used as fodder for his enemies. Should that happen, Lucius would need a unit loyal to him, not the oh-so-smart, but callous and ruthless Rahvin. Tayne had supplied that unit, and, should Lucius ask, he was ready to use them.

He glanced at his comm operator again. “Get Brak down here, and tell him to bring his birds. We’re going on a rescue.” The operator grinned as he bent to his task.

“The rest of you,” he announced to the rest of his force, “get ready. Brak’s going to be here soon, and I want all of you sorted by then. I want everyone to get double ammo from the stores, and all the kit you think you’ll need for urban combat. If you’ve never been in urban combat, talk to those among us who were in the PDF.” The assembled men went about their tasks. Casting his voice over the bustle of activity, he called, “Elite’s, with me! Now, people!”

Tayne smiled to himself. Lucius always said Rahvin didn’t see the worth in his unit. He would show the Magus today. Oh yes. None of the elite’s commented on his predatory grin as they assembled around him. They already knew what it meant.

Bloodshed.

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:28 PM

Lucius sprang back as Rahvin smashed the comm set from his hands with a roar. The burning daemonsword clove the set in two, sparks and shards of metal spraying over the floor.

“Lucius! This is the last time I will put up with your infernal stupidity! We do not need your ragtag army of filth here! Once more Lucius, and you will see just how unnecessary you are to me!”

Lucius was about to reply when a lasbolt screamed through the window, inches from his head. The heat from its wailing trail made the display on his targeter fizz, the display distorting for a second. He dropped to his knees and raised his lasgun. “No time now boss. In case you didn’t notice, we’re all about to die!” he snarled. He twisted and stood, the targeter wrapped around his head whirring as it reset and locked on to the plethora of targets. He burned down one trooper as he ran, the bright beam of energy imacting on his chest and throwing him to the ground, the skin and clothes around the wound smoking and charred.

Lucius was glad he had brought the hotshot packs his scavengers had looted from the Arbitese Precinct House. The lasgun hit like a hellgun now, punching through carapace and flak like it was cloth. He hit another and the trooper went down with a smoking hole blasted in his belly. “Now Khul! Fire!” He yelled as he winged another, sending the man tumbling into a hab entrance with a hole in his leg.

Khul opened up with his cannon, high-calibre shells pounding the rubble and the PDF with equal ferocity, the heavy stubber's long belt of ammo rattling as it reeled from the box behind him. The noise was deafening, so loud as to be disorientating. Shells ripped into troopers, tearing bloody gouges in them, throwing them back, forcing them to dive into cover where they were easy pickings for Lucius and his more precise fire.

Lucus shot another trooper, the brilliant screaming beam of the las shot vaporising half the man’s head with a sharp crack. The ambush had only worked because the PDF didn’t know their position. Hits from unexpected sides from weapons like his and Khul's were sure to demoralise any force. Of course, now the PDF knew where they were, it wouldn’t be so easy. He picked off another, then duck below the sill as an autogun round slammed into the stonework behind him. It was quickly followed by half a dozen more, sending broken pieces of stone showering down around him. Lucius used the time to reload, dropping the nearly-depleted power pack to the floor and slamming another home.

Rahvin, finished chanting now, was stood by another window arch. He was firing his bolt pistol into the PDF forces, his massive armour absorbing the recoil of each shot affortlessly. The explosive bolts blasted massive craters in the PDF troopers, throwing blood and gore into the air with a booming crack at each shot. He took no notice of the return fire, hurtling bullets and las bolts absorbed by his baroque armour and the smashed stone of the window.

Lucius stood again, snapping off shot after shot into the swarming flood of white armoured men and women. He groaned to himself as he heard the ominous rumble of the tank rolling up the street towards the church. Plucking a smoke grenade from his pack, he tossed it down the street. It landed in a small pothole just in front of the church and immediately began belching thick, noxious clouds of smoke into the air. When the cloud had become large enough to hide him, he switched his lasgun to semi-automatic. He cracked off a triplet of bursts blindly into the smoke, before diving away from the window.

His spirits sunk even lower as the screaming wail of and aircraft echoed across the battlefield. Craters tore themselves open in the church floor where the heavy autocannon shells struck. Each screaming shot left destruction in its blazing wake, a flash of light and sound. The fighter pulled up from its attack run and the chaos ceased for a moment. Both sides cautiously crept out of cover. The front of the church was a broken mess, and Khul was half buried under a pile of rubble, blood pooling around the barely conscious mutant.

“Still think this was a good idea, boss?” growled Lucius as he ran to Khul. He struggled to pull the bulky mutant out from under the rubble, firing shots one-handed over the pile.

“Shut up, imbecile! I have no time for your whining!” replied Rahvin, his voice harsh with anger. He fired bolt after bolt out of the window, seemingly unaware of the rents and tears in his armour from the incoming fire.

Suddenly there came a loud explosion. The whine of the PDF fighter cut of and was replaced with the insistent drone of transport craft. Lucius smiled to himself. Now Rahvin would see that Lucius had been right. One by one, the six transports landed, disgorging the traitors and mutants of Lucius’ militia. The screaming heretics rushed towards the PDF forces, las shots and auto rounds ripping up the terrain and the PDF.

Lucius grinned. The tables had turned.

* * * * * *

Tayne grinned as his men surged forwards through the bombed out wreck of the city. The drop had gone flawlessly, the six transports swooping in from the low, murky clouds and taking the PDF completely by surprise. The white-armoured swarm of the PDF was too shocked to react, overwhelmed by the fluid black tide of the insurrectionist militia.

He stepped down from the last transport as the last of his men rushed past him and into the battle. “Elite’s! Assemble on me! Now!” He called out, before the whirring of the transports engines activating drowned out all other noise in a harsh wailing whine. He covered his eyes as the transport kicked up dust and rubble from the street with it’s powerful thrusters. It blasted into the grey sky, disappearing almost instantly into the impenetrable fog.

When he uncovered his eyes, his elite’s were standing in front of him in precise ranks, unperturbed by the swirling dust. Each of them was encased in black carapace armour, replete with matt-black rebreathers and goggles. They carried an assortment of weapons, suited to the bearer. Seven of the ten carried hellguns, their belts festooned with extra ammo cells. Backpacks would have been too bulky. Two others carried battered bolters, the massive weapons cradled in their arms. The last member of the team was armed with a plasma gun looted from the Mechanicus compound in the capital. The volatile weapon steamed in it’s owners hands, the fuel cells giving off a slight glow.

Tayne looked at each of them in turn. “We can leave the fighting to the others. We have a different job to do.” He swung round and pointed in the direction of the church Lucius had been headed towards. “We need to get in there. Lucius is there, along with Khul and Rahvin, and I don’t know if they are holding out. To move the entire force there would be too obvious, and probably bring more fire down on them. With us all spread out, they can’t concentrate their fire, and we can get to that church.”

The elite’s nodded at him, understanding their mission. He hefted his hellpistol. “Let’s go!”

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:29 PM

Lucius slid to a stop against the jagged pile of masonry blocking the entranceway of the church. He rolled to his knees, coughing blood. He looked torturously up and saw Rahvin stalking towards him, his bolt pistol discarded and his daemon sword held by his side.

“This is the last time, Lucius.” Rahvin’s voice was low and threatening, a coldness more hostile than rage. “If you disobey any of my orders again, fool, I will destroy you. Never forget that. I made you. I took you from the slums of Vyrrax and made you the man you are now. You are mine.”

Lucius grimaced. “I am no-one’s slave, Rahvin.” He spat blood. “Not even yours.”

Rahvin laughed, a harsh, booming sound devoid of any warmth. “Be that as it may, Lucius, If you ever disobey my orders again, I will not hesitate to kill you. Never forget that.”

Lucius picked himself up of the floor, wincing at the stabbing pain in his side. Cracked rib. He glanced out the window and saw the PDF moving further away from the church, drawn off by his militia. “So, what was your plan for getting us out of here, anyway?”

Rahvin turned on his heel, striding back to the altar. “Stand back.”

Lucius limped to the wall of the church, each step sending a sharp pain through his chest. Rahvin began to chant again, harsh words unknown to any mortal language falling from his mouth, filling the air until it reeked of corruption. Khul stirred at the incantation, his grievous wounds sealing themselves with a gruesome sucking sound, flesh knitting together, scabs forming, then falling, all in the space of minutes.

The mutant crawled slowly towards Lucius, his broken body still regenerating. His oversized weapon lay forgotten by the arched doorway of the church, leaking lubricant onto the cracked stone slabs from a dozen shrapnel wounds.

Khul reached him just as Rahvin reached the culmination of his ritual. The magus drove his sword deep into the altar, a thousand tiny mouths shrieking in agony. The very air seemed to shake, pieces of loose stone dislodging themselves from the arched roof of the church and crashing to the floor. Rahvin’s ceramite-encased arms strained to hold the sword fast in the altar, the possessed blade twisting and writhing like a living thing.

Two final syllables pierced the air, and all was suddenly paralysed. It was as if time had been suspended, nothing moving save the slow rise and fall of Lucius’ chest. The clamour of battle ceased, stillness clogging the air. The air. It gravitated towards the altar, slowly, barely noticeable currents against Lucius’ skin. Silence reigned.

Then it burst. With a swelling tear, the air above the altar ripped itself apart. Whispers from the aethyr whipped around the room, accompanied by lashing winds of invisible force. The impossible winds pulled at clothes, swirling around the church in a hurtling maelstrom of energy.

Rahvin stood at the heart of it all, looking into the abyss. He ripped his sword from the altar, the writhing mouths melted shut, surrounded by a miasmic aura the colour of dried blood. He thrust the glowing blade into the mouth of the rift, straining with the effort, his every fibre struggling to resist the unearthly pull of the warp. Tendrils of black light twined around the blade, drawing the essence from the tortured weapon.

The tendrils enveloped the sword, hiding the blood red blade from view as the edges of the rift closed in. The sides met, and exploded outwards in all directions, releasing an unholy cacophony of madness. The darkness filled the church, covering everything like a shroud, before spilling from the windows and door, snaking over the corpse-ridden ground outside.

The darkness began to take shape, coalescing into shapes within shapes, growing more solid with every second. Screams arose from the PDF and Lucius’ militia as the shapes solidified and burst free of the darkness. Visions from the brink of madness slaughtered their way through everything outside the church, their influence growing as the tide of foul energy continued to leech through the warp gate.

Rahvin turned to Lucius. His sword was no longer possessed, just a weapon, hanging limply by his side. “Do you see now why your militia was not needed?” His voice was dead. “They could have played an important part in this saga, but they are gone.”

Lucius stared at the swelling sea of expanding blackness. “Why?...”

“The gate had to be opened. It was the first step in the obliteration of this planet.” The magus’ eyes glinted. “Not conquest, or corruption. Obliteration. I will remake Pavonis VI into a new daemon world. I will unleash the festering tides of the empyrean on this frail reality until all is gone and dead.” He paused. “That is why, Lucius.”

Lucius turned just in time to see the wall collapse, dark shapes flooding through the gap.

* * * * * *

Tayne stumbled as he and his men ground to a halt in front of the blasted church. Dark power seeped from the high, arched windows, and shadows poured from the open doorway. The air seemed to freeze and boil at the same time, awash with chaotic power. The scent of sulphur burned his nostrils, rasping like sandpaper in the back of his suddenly dry throat.

He spun to face his men. The full-face masks the warriors wore hid their identity, hiding them in threatening anonymity. Tayne didn’t care. “Get us into that building!”

One of the elite’s nodded and dropped to his knees, slinging his pack from his shoulders. Dipping deftly into a bulging compartment, the soldier retrieved a grenade, krak from what Tayne could see. The man motioned for them to stand back, then rolled the grenade across the scorched paving. The compact cylinder came to a stop nestled between the church wall and the ground, beeping ominously. Tayne looked away, clutching his hellpistol tightly, preparing to run.

The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, throwing chunks of the already-weak wall high into the murky air. Great clouds of rust-coloured smoke blasted outwards from the explosion, pushed by the same shockwave that slammed into Tayne and his men, forcing them to crouch low against the buffeting force.

Tayne looked up, already moving forwards; his men close on his heels. The wall was gone, reduced to rubble and grit by the anti-tank grenade. Leeching tendrils of darkness snaked through the ragged breach, followed by the writhing sea of midnight that filled the church, hiding its contents. Tayne barrelled into the darkness, flinching as he felt its ethyric caress.

* * * * * *

The dark shapes resolved slowly into Tayne and his elite’s, gasping, half-falling into the church. Lucius sighed in relief. He had been sure the shapes were the terrible daemons of the warp come to devour his soul. Instead they were a faint glimmer of hope. With the elite’s, he could maybe get them out of here. Rahvin wouldn’t like it, but Lucius had no desire to be stranded on a potential daemon-world. Screw him.

Rahvin roared in pure, unbridled rage. His sword, no longer possessed but still deadly, swept up impossibly fast, powered by the Magus’ armour-enhanced strength. The blade smashed into the head of one of Lucius’ elite’s, bowling the man to the ground like a marionette with its strings severed. The man was unrecognisable; his face pulped, thick, crimson blood and brain matter oozing from the cracked and splintered skull. The sword continued on its path, slicing deep into one of the pillars supporting the roof, lodging itself within the chipped stone.

Rahvin let go of the hilt, leaving the weapon protruding from the column. His voice was low, harsh, thick with anger as he spoke. “Damn you Lucius! Is there no end to the disasters you can cause?”

Lucius backed away from the hulking form of the Magus, surreptitiously readying his lasrifle. “Boss… I didn’t… What’s the problem..?”

“What’s the problem?” screamed Rahvin, rounding on Lucius. “What’s the problem? The ritual depended upon those walls; that’s the problem! With the boundaries broken, nothing is stopping the daemons from manifesting inside the church!”

As he spoke, the twisting curls of shadow began to roll back into the church, snaking around each other, melding together until a dark wave swept slowly, inexorably towards them. They all pressed against the back wall of the church, all except Rahvin, who simply waited where he stood, shoulders rising up and down with each deep, rage-filled breath. Slowly he raised his head, face upturned to the arched roof of the church. Dragging in a rough breath, he screamed a single word, his voice like the roar of an enraged beast.

“Kharnath!”

The shadows stopped dead. Nothing moved, save for the ragged rise and fall of chests with each breath.

Then the stained glass skylight shattered, showering multicoloured daggers down to the floor. They never got there. They stopped, frozen impossibly three meters from the floor. A miasmic light poured through the new opening, pushing away the dark, rippling mass of warp-spawned shadow. Through it descended Kharnath.

The daemonhost was gruesome to behold, a pallid corpse floating down through the cloud of jagged glass. A lone, black horn speared obscenely from its forehead, parting the whipping mass of greasy, jet-black hair that hung to its shoulders. A loose black robe clung from its thin shoulders, ending below its feet. Its skin was studded and pierced with brazen ornamentation; bindings and wards to hold the daemon inside its prison of dead flesh. The thing’s hand was wrapped around a silver rod the size of a man’s forearm, covered in fluted scrollwork and decorated with endless patterns, whorls of gold leaf spiralling into themselves.

The daemonhost’s voice was a deathly rasp, snakeskin on sandpaper, drawing shudders from Lucius and his men.

“Yes, master?”

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:30 PM

“Can you hold it?” Rahvin asked the daemonhost, sweeping a ceramite-clad arm behind him at the immobilised shadows lurking at the doorway.

The daemonhost smiled slowly, the grin of a predator. Sharp, yellowed teeth showed behind withered lips. “For a time.”

The Magus turned sharply to face his lesser followers, clustered against the wall in fear. Cowards. They hadn’t even tasted the true horror of the warp, and yet they still turned away, hiding their frightened faces from the all-seeing eyes of the immaterium. Weak. He despised them. It was a sad truth that they were necessary to his designs. “Move,” he snarled, striding towards the altar in front of them, and the twisted, impossible slit in reality hanging above it, an affront to reality, defying logic and understanding.

Except he did understand it. He had seen into the warp, he had seen the terrible powers that dwelt there. He had seen everything. Life, death, war, excess. He had seen it all. And he knew what he had to do.

He stepped up to the altar, staring into the warp-gate as his minions hurriedly moved back. “Kharnath, I need the sceptre.” His voice was flat. It hurt to admit his inability, his weakness, even if the one here who would recognise it could not care less. He wasn’t strong enough to do this himself. He wasn’t even a psyker.

He prided himself on his achievements, on overcoming any obstacles, including himself. He was not a sorcerer, but he had performed summonings; he was not a telepath, but he could call his daemonhost; he was not even a worshipper of the chaos powers, yet he had risen so far. Oh, he recognised the power of the gods, but he also knew they had limits. They were not all-seeing. They did not have unlimited power. They could not even touch reality without the aid of their servants. He recognised them, yes, but he did not worship them.

He used them.

He had killed an Inquisitor, once. Ironically, they were both working towards the same goal. They had both wanted to destroy the weak, corrupt government of Bakurris Prime. She had been working from within the Imperium, he chose to carry out his quest from outside its oppressive shadow. But for that, they could have been allies. She had belonged to a faction, the recongregators. They worked to destabilise the Imperium, hoping to propagate strength through conflict, as did he. He simply used the greatest threat of all.

After all, what was more powerful than a force that could turn even a Primarch?

The daemonhost stretched out its arm, the sceptre flying from it’s fingers and stopping scant inches from his face, snapping out of his reverie. Growling in annoyance, he snatched the sceptre from the air, glaring at the hovering daemonhost. The thing stared back at him with its dead, black eyes, sparks of warp-fuelled electricity jumping from its skin as it maintained its hold on the chaos energies threatening to pour into the church.

He clutched the sceptre in his armoured fist and stiffened slightly as he felt the power rush into him, infesting his veins with the raw, elemental chaos. The sceptre acted as a warp-amplifier and conduit, boosting its user’s presence in the warp, while simultaneously allowing them to channel the power flocking to the inferno their mind would become within the warp, leeching it through the sceptre and into the corporeal universe. It allowed even a non-psyker like him to use the incredible powers of the empyrean.

He thrust the sceptre at the screaming warp-gate, marshalling his mind to direct the incredible flow of power to his bidding. Coils of blood-red energy burst from the end of the sceptre, thick and pulsating, each as thick as his thigh. The coils screamed at him, the sound tearing at reality, the source inimical to this very universe. He wrapped them round the warp-gate, constricting it. He added more. More. He needed more.

The energy emerging from the sceptre was all one solid stream now, thicker than his torso, encasing the warp-gate in its entirety. Still it did not close. He needed more power.

The stream increased in intensity, darkening first to deep crimson, then to red so dark it was almost black. The screaming increased, becoming louder, higher. He could feel the power draining him. The sceptre had risks. But the warp-gate was not closing. In fact, it was expanding.

“I thought you were holding it!” he barked at Kharnath, his eyes never leaving the raging streams of warp energy.

* * * * * *

Kharnath chuckled softly to itself. Pathetic mortal. Rahvin, the great Magus. Rahvin, the captor of Kharnath. Not anymore.

The daemonhost stretched out its arm again, and telekinetically ripped the sceptre from the Magus’ hands, bringing it flying through the air to land in its palm. The Magus was blasted across the church by the backlash of the abrupt loss of so much power. So much power. Kharnath sneered. Such paltry amounts were as candles to an inferno next to Kharnath’s abilities. Especially with the sceptre.

The Magus hit a column with a loud crack, but instead of falling, he simply hung there, suspended against the spiderwebbed stone. Kharnath floated closer to the mortal, lightning flashing from its eyes. Peering into the mortal’s eyes, the daemonhost crushed him against the column, hearing the slow snapping of armour plates through its host’s murky senses.

“Yes, master.” The word was loaded with so much scorn that Rahvin’s eyes snapped open to stare incredulously at the daemonhost. “I was holding it. But not anymore. I think it would be better if the portal were to stay open, for now.”

The Magus raged. “I command you, daemon, release me!”

Kharnath laughed softly. “I don’t think so, mortal. You see, you have never seen my full power. You assume I am a Beta-plus level psyker, by your crude classifications. I am closer to what you would call Alpha-plus level. And with the sceptre…” It broke off, chuckling to itself.

Rahvin snarled. “The castle.”

“Yes, mortal, the castle. You gave me access to the sceptre, alone, away from your pathetic eyes. Your bindings were not up to it, Magus. I shattered them as easily as I would shatter you. I am no longer bound to you, Magus. I am free.”

* * * * * *

Rahvin snarled at his traitorous daemonhost. He was pinned against the column by its powerful telekinesis, trapped spread-eagled against the stone. His armour was beginning to buckle under the psychic force, black spikes of ceramite bending and snapping against the increasingly-fragile pillar.

“What do you want, abomination?” he growled. He had known this would happen at some time. He had just not expected it to be at such a crucial point in his endeavours. He felt a maelstrom of boiling rage build up within him. How dare this thing betray him? Him! He was the most powerful being in the sector! He had destroyed a dozen worlds! He had killed the best the Imperium had sent at him! And now he was brought low by one of his servants, a pathetic daemon.

The daemon drifted closer. Its mouth did not move as it spoke, the insidious words entering directly into his mind. He recoiled at the intrusion. “I want my power back.” Each word was bitten off, filled with hate and amusement in equal amounts.

He forced himself to master his growing anger. It would do him no good. He needed clarity. “You will not have it, daemon,” he spat. “With my last breath, I will deny you. You are mine.” He forced the last word out with all the vehemence he could muster.

The pressure increased. He felt the elaborate plates of his shoulder guards begin to buckle. Flakes of stone drifted in front of his eyes. “I will never be yours, mortal. I never was, and I never will be. I will watch you die and wither. I will laugh as your weakling mortal soul is taken by the gods of the warp and ripped asunder.” It paused. “It is you, mortal. You belong to me.”

He smiled, baring serrated, knife-sharp teeth. “Now!”

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:31 PM

Lucius was diving before the cry had finished, raising his lasgun in midair. He landed and rolled to one knee, raising the rifle to his shoulder. “Khul! Kill the daemon!” he screamed as he opened fire, bright, wailing las-bolts flashing across the church and slamming into the daemon.

The daemon had half turned toward Lucius when Khul’s cannon fired. A burning tongue of flame speared from the weapon’s cycling barrels, a deafening roar accompanied by a hail of white-hot lead. The cyclone of fire blasted into the daemonhost, throwing it through the air and smashing it through a cracked window, its host body torn to shreds. A shrill, mental scream filled the air as the daemonhost fell out of sight.

Khul’s cannon slowed to a stop, its rotary whine dropping to a quiet hum, acrid smoke whispering from the barrel accompanied by the rank smell of cordite. Lucius lowered his rifle and turned, in time to see Rahvin slump down from the column, no longer held. The Magus hit the floor with a thump, but quickly regained his feet, his armour groaning as he pushed its twisted frame into position.

“You alright, boss?” asked Lucius, walking slowly toward the swiftly-recovering Magus.

Rahvin snarled at him. “I was never not alright, whelp.” The Magus straightened and strode over to the still-expanding but inert warp-portal. “The situation is not yet out of my control. The daemonhost is not destroyed, I made it too powerful for mere guns to kill, but fortunately the portal is still frozen. Expanding, but frozen. It cannot be closed now.”

Lucius exchanged glances with Khul and Tayne. “Boss?”

Rahvin turned to face them. His eyes burned with rage. “We must leave this place. These events can be rectified, but not from here, and not with the resources I have to hand.”

Lucius stepped forwards. “One problem, boss.” Rahvin glared at him. “There’s no way out.” There wasn’t. The sea of daemons was still writhing outside the church, rending and destroying out of sheer malice, ecstatic to be released in the physical universe.

“Fool.” The word was spoken quietly, filled with scorn and contempt. “I am more powerful than you could ever comprehend, Lucius.” The Magus stepped on to the altar’s plinth, standing before the pulsating portal. He turned to face the group again. he reached down, sliding open a tiny compartment in his thigh armour and retrieving a thin disk. It was made of bone, and covered in intricate swirls of crimson, all converging on a dull crystal the size of Lucius’ fingernail, coloured a sickly red so dark it was almost black.

Rahvin held the device in front of him, depressing the crystal into its bone housing. “Boss? What’s that?” inquired Lucius, echoing the thoughts of everyone in the group.

Rahvin did not look up from the strange artefact. “I have neither the time nor desire to explain the extranceor to you, Lucius. Take your men and guard the windows. The daemon will be back.”

Lucius turned from Rahvin, looking at his men. “You heard him. That crazy daemon-thing is going to be back soon, and we need to stop it. Otherwise we may never get out of this place.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t worry about the boss, he does this crap all the time. You just have to learn to live with it. He will have a way out, though.”

The team spread out across the open floor of the church, taking cover behind pillars and piles of rubble, waiting for the daemonhost to come back. Lucius looked back at Rahivn. The Magus was manipulating the device – the extranceor, he had called it -, tracing the swirling designs and occasionally depressing the crystal, which was beginning to give off a faint light, a luminescent pallor of crimson.

He glanced at the others. “Get ready.”

* * * * * *

Tayne surveyed his men, trying to avoid looking at the man Rahvin had killed, lying on the floor in a pool of immobile blood. The nine living members looked back at him, their expressions hidden behind their masks. Each of them had his weapon braced, trained on the shattered window the daemonhost had been thrown out of. He hefted his hellpistol.

That… abomination… was going to kill them all. He had no problem with facing an army of Arbites, or the PDF, or even the Imperial Guard. They could all be killed. If you shot them they died. Simple as that. This thing, though… He had seen the shape of its body just before it had fallen out of view. It had been ripped to shreds, torn apart by the rain of hot lead from Khul’s cannon, yet it had not died. It had just screamed, and he was sure that had been more rage than pain, anyway.

He gritted his teeth. It had been driven off once, he told himself, so they could do it again.

* * * * * *

The first sign they had of the daemonhost was when the man by the entrance to the church died.

The man simply imploded, compressed together in a fountain of gore, without even time to scream. Blood-drenched pieces of the man showered the rest of the team, and they turned instantly to the dorrway, some stopping to wipe themselves clean.

Lucius smiled. Tayne had trained them well.

The eight of them sighted their weapons on the entrance, waiting for the daemonhost to show itself.

Then another died.

This time the victim exploded, ripped apart by some titanic force. His constituent parts were scattered everywhere, raining down on the remaining men in a bloody shower. “Boss!” screamed Lucius. “Where the hell is it?” He dived for cover under the remains of a battered pew.

Rahvin didn’t answer. He was too busy working the device. Lucius cursed, motioning to Tayne and his men to spread out.

The floor exploded. An area about two metres across simply disappeared, detonating with incredible force. Showers of stone and dirt were thrown into the air, a rushing wave of rubble that shredded anything in its path. Through the destruction rose Kharnath, cloaked in a miasma of power.

Its host was smashed, shattered limbs held on by twisting sinews, rents and gouges covering its torso where the high-calibre shots from Khul’s weapon had pierced the frail, dead flesh, blasting great chunks from the host. The monster’s eyes were ablaze with blue-white flame, the creature holding its host together through sheer force of will. It hung a few feet from the floor, staring at Lucius’ men.

“Kill it!” screamed Lucius, before he was thrown violently across the church, smashing into the wall and blacking out in a haze of agony.

* * * * * *

Kharnath watched in disdain as the humans opened fire. It reached into the warp briefly, and the bullets and las-bolts impacted harmlessly on its telekinetic shield, spattering from the invisible force a foot from the daemon. It laughed as the pathetic humans fired again and again, each shot as harmless as the last, until they had exhausted their ammunition. They began to reload.

Kharnath began to kill.

* * * * * *

Rahvin calmly ran through the activation rituals of the extranceor while his followers were massacred. Two of Lucius’ so-called elite’s were ripped apart where they stood, bones emerging from rapidly-disintegrating skin, limbs flying off, pulled to pieces by the sheer telekinetic force of the daemonhost. Their screams echoed on past their deaths, wailing spectres of agony.

He tuned the killing out, concentrating on activating the device. It was their only way out of here. Originally, he had planned to simply use a warp-gate, powered by the sceptre, but since the daemonhost had stolen his sceptre he had to resort to the extranceor.

The device was another psy-conduit, though it worked differently to the sceptre. The sceptre simply amplified a warp-signature, and conducted the resultant energies. The extranceor amplified the psy-energies in two locations, not tied to a person. The resultant flow of power to those locations was then used to bore a pair of rifts to the material universe, which would in turn attract yet more power. This excess was used to form a conduit within the warp, linking the two locations. Anything passing through one portal would be transported through the conduit and forced out of the other portal.

Of course, such travel was not without risks. Without the power of the sceptre, he would have no means to fend off any malevolent intruders during his passage, even through the passage itself would take mere seconds. Bringing the extranceor through its own portals could also cause a build up of dangerous, and potentially lethal, stresses within the device, as it tried to reach a dimension it was already in. The devices were meant to be used in pairs, one travelling through the others portal, before maintaining another while he other device joined it.

The other had been lost, though. When he had come across the extranceor, there had been only one there, although there had clearly been a place for the second. He did not know where it had been taken, or by whom, but it was one of his main motives during his long, and apparently random, journeys between planets and systems.

He was hit by a faint blood-mist as the last of the elite’s died, vaporised by the raging daemonhost. He snarled.

“Kill the damn daemon, you fools!”

Rahvin · 04-30-2007, 02:32 PM

Lucius moaned as he felt consciousness return, bringing with it the full feel of his battered body, lying crumpled against the wall. He looked up, raising his head through the stabbing pain in his neck and shoulders. He moaned again.

The daemon-thing was hovering in front of him.

Its feet hung about a foot from the dusty, blood-spattered floor. Its black robe hung down almost that far. Cold blue fire blazed in its dead eyes, gales of warp-power whipping its hair around, pulling at its robe. The sceptre was clutched in its hand, almost idly, as if forgotten. It bent down to him.

“Are you ready to die, mortal?”

He spat, resolved to die with honour, not running in terror. “Go to hell, daemon.”

“I already did,” replied the daemon, its voice the soft whisper of silk. “Your master brought me back. I think now is the time to repay the favour. After all, one has been removed from the warp, so it is only fair that one is sent there.”

“One?” he asked, his voice laden with all the scorn he could muster. “One only? What about the others, my soldiers? Where were they sent?”

“Those… I had no control over their destinations. Not like I will over yours.”

“What do you mean, daemon?”

The daemon pulled back slightly, spreading its arms wide. “I think I need a new host, don’t you, mortal?”

Lucius paled.

“Come to think of it,” added the daemonhost, “your body looks to be in quite good shape. I think I will have it.”

Lucius squirmed away, trying to back through the unfortunately solid stone of the wall. “N-no…”

* * * * * *

He had it. The device was ready. Rahvin looked around for his followers.

They were all dead, all except Lucius, and he looked like he wouldn’t be long. Kharnath had him cornered. Khul… where was the mutant? His cannon could come in useful.

The mutant was spread across the church, his constituent parts scattered over the floor, lying in the thin layer of blood that coated the floor, dripping slowly into the crater the daemonhost had created upon its entrance.

This was a major setback.

Grimacing, he gave the now-glowing crystal at the heart of the extranceor a final press. The device began to whine. He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the formation of another warp-portal so close to the first.

The portal announced itself with a ripping tear, reality distorting under the influence of the extranceor. He opened his eyes long enough to see the daemonhost sag, and Lucius rise, his eyes ablaze with power. A faint scream of agony beyond words echoed through the building.

Then he was through the portal.

Akhenaten · 05-01-2007, 07:25 AM

Extensive stuff man! Nothing stuck out for me to critique, only got praise for this, it drew me in!

Rahvin · 05-01-2007, 07:42 AM

Cheers! Did you manage to read it all? (9,000 words is a bit long to read at once, but I figured; what's the point in waiting to put it up if it's already complete - plotwise anyway)

C.C.Benjamin · 05-01-2007, 05:25 PM

Okay, I have only read the first few paragraphs of this and will have to stop as I have work tomorrow, but:

I am a MASSIVE 40k fan. I have been playing for about 14 years now, and Chaos is my game. Oh yes, I have a hefty Daemon Prince sat on my shelf, my pride and joy.

Now:

I'm really enjoying the story! The setting and scene is very well described. It could be because I know exactly what kind of thing you are going for from years of playing, but it just clicked. Your descriptions of the war-torn town really brought it to life, and I enjoyed the dialogue with the Rahvin (I'm slightly unclear about what the characters are exactly; is the Rahvin guy in power armour? and the Magus?) and the General too, but I am a little unclear as to why that one guy thought he could take them out all on his own...seems a little suicidal to me.

Good ass kicking, and I liked your choices of names. IMO there actually is a lot in a name, so choosing good ones is a good way of making readers like a character.

Rahvin · 05-02-2007, 03:47 AM

Cheers! As for the charcters, I can see where confusion would arise. This (aftermath) was a sort of sequel to Extremis Diabolus (the first half of which is posted somewhere further down the fiction board). That contains most of the initial charcter descriptions, and I didn't want to include them all again, as I'm aiming to eventually link all my stories and get a novel (ar at least a novella). Right, let's rectify that problem:
Rahvin - Chaos Magus, in power armour. (with the name I need to change, really)
Lucius - Cultist, with a lasgun
Khul - Mutant, with a stupidly big heavy stubber (for those of you who don't play 40k, that's a sort of rotary cannon, in this case)
Grath - Local PDF (Planetary Defense Force) agent. Holds his own life in no value compared to stopping Rahvin's apocalyptic plans
Wylk - General and overall commander of the PDF
Kharnath - stupidly powerful (and bound far too loosely) Daemonhost. Created by Rahvin.
Tayne - Lucius' long-standing companion, commands the insurrectionist army when Lucius isn't around.

That's about it I think for major characters.

Let me know if you need anything else.

Rahvin · 05-02-2007, 03:56 AM

Ah, I know, clarification on Daemonhosts for those who won't know about them! They are Daemons (beings of energy from the Warp - an alternate plane of reality reflecting this one, used for travel [very risky] and communication [very risky], inhabited by Daemons serving the four Chaos Gods, each of which reflects one of four primal emotions - Khorne (war, killing, bloodshed), Slaanesh (pleasure), Tzeentch (change), and Nurgle (decay), or undivided Daemons, which are ususally the weakest. Daemons of all kinds will attack anything in the warp, such as Psykers - those with psychic powers, used by reaching into the warp and tapping its power, and ships travelling - that's why they have sheilds to hold them in a little bubble of reality) The chaos gods are far more active than most of the gods nowadays. If one pleases them enough (generally by killing nonbelievers, sacrificing things, mass genocide, that sort of thing) they can grant power and immortality.

Daemonhosts are people possessed by a Daemon (willingly or unwillingly), and then had the Daemon bound inside them so it can't escape. The strength a Daemon can exhibit is directly linked to two things; how powerful the daemon was, and how strong the bindings are. Stronger bindings wil weaken the daemon, but make it more subservient, while weaker bindings have the opposite effect.

I think that about covers it. (phew...)

C.C.Benjamin · 05-02-2007, 12:37 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Rahvin

Cheers! As for the charcters, I can see where confusion would arise. This (aftermath) was a sort of sequel to Extremis Diabolus (the first half of which is posted somewhere further down the fiction board). That contains most of the initial charcter descriptions, and I didn't want to include them all again, as I'm aiming to eventually link all my stories and get a novel (ar at least a novella). Right, let's rectify that problem:
Rahvin - Chaos Magus, in power armour. (with the name I need to change, really)
Lucius - Cultist, with a lasgun
Khul - Mutant, with a stupidly big heavy stubber (for those of you who don't play 40k, that's a sort of rotary cannon, in this