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[Prosperan Son]

This is where the submissions will be posted so that the judges and audience can all see. Send in your story via Private message to any of the judges when they are chosen, and we will post them on here with the name of the user who wrote them. Good Luck.

[Prosperan Son]

And the First Story has been submitted! I'd like to thank Tu'Shan of the Salamanders for being our first contender.



The squad of Salamanders moved through the sewer under Hive Hjalmarch, on the Imperium industrial world Ragnarok. Chaos had invaded this planet in force, a Black Crusade not led by Abbadon, but by one of the traitorous Thousand Sons, Ahriman. In fact, warbands of six of the Traitor Legions were here. The Iron Warriors, Thousand Sons, World Eaters, Word Bearers, Death Guard, and Night Lords. A vast army of slaves and Traitor Guardsmen were there too, all for some unknown purpose. Many Space Marine Chapters were there as well, the Ultramarines, Salamanders, Black Templars, Doom Eagles, Raven Guard, Dark Angels, and Crimson Fists. The Ultramarines and Blood Ravens had just come from a Forge World that had been invaded by Orks, then by a Chapion of Chaos.

"Brother-Sergeant, I hear the sounds of pursuit behind us." The speaker was Brother Dar'Shei, the squads special weapons expert. He held an ancient flamer in his hands, the nozzle shaped to look like a snarling Fire-drake, the deadliest breed of salamander on their homeworld.

"Those blasted Death Guard. These sewers must be like a haven for them. Brother Bak'tet, set up a proximity charge. Hide it if you can." The Brother nodded, setting a small charge under the murky water, set to detonate when the target got within a meter or less. The squad continued down the tunnel, and soon an earthshaking explosion was heard and felt by them.

"Those Traitors felt the wrath of Vulkan." The brothers nodded in consent to the words of the Sergeant. They continued, until they reached the point of their surface re-entry. A squad of the Doom Eagles had been pinned by some Iron Warriors and Night Lords, and the Salamanders had went under them to outflank them. They barely fit through the small opening back to the rugged surface of the street. In the distance they could hear bolter fire and the jeers of the Chaos Marines.

"Brother Sil'nei, move forward, see what you can see. If you see the opportunity to take out a leader or Champion, do it." The Marine nodded, and dissappeared into the dark. Sil'nei was on loan from the 7th Company, and although the Salamanders weren't renowned for their Scouts, Sil'nei was as silent as a shadow, and deadly with a stalker bolter.

0000

Sil'nei moved forward like a ghost, his lightweight Scout armor letting him move quickly, and a lot more quietly than the full power armor of his older Brothers. He climbed up onto the roof of a small shop, overlooking a square. The Doom Eagles had been forced to take shelter in an enforcer precinct, which had been surrounded by the Chaos Marines. A bellowing Champion stood at the head of the Iron Warriors, daring them to take a shot at him. He was tall, even for an Astartes. His iron gray armor had grown spikes, and his helmet had a massive set of antlers growing from it. His left arm had twisted into a huge claw, like some deep sea crustacean. His right arm held a massive power axe, which crackled with red energy. Baleful runes, which hurt to look at, had been branded onto his armor.

Sil'nei peered through the scope of the stalker bolter, trying to line up the perfect shot. The Champion through back his head to laugh or roar; Sil'nei squeezed the trigger, letting the explosive bolt fly. It struck the Champion in the throat, going through the rubber neck piece and detonating in a shower of gore. A hush fell over the Chaos Marines as the Champion fell to the ground. Soon, a roar was built back up as the Traitors tried to find the shooter. Sil'nei, still full of the arrogant pride of youth, was gloating in his head about slaying the Champion. He didn't notice a bright point of light on the opposite roof, or hear the scream of a jump pack above the roaring Marines. He did feel the slight tremble as the Chaos Raptor landed close to him.

The Raptor was wearing midnight plate, the symbol of a fanged skull with daemon wings was visible on it's shoulder. It's helmet was a twisted version of the older 'Corvus' helmet, a bone white skull was painted on it. It held a chain-axe in it's right hand, an ancient, ornate bolt pistol in the other. For some reason, the bolt pistol drew the Scout's gaze. The pistol had gold inlaid designs across the housing, in the shape of Fire-drakes, and a small symbol behind the trigger resolved into the Chapter symbol of the Salamanders. The Raptor began to speak, obviously deranged.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little morsel for us, yes? A thin-blood, of a weak Chapter, yes? Shall we kill it?" The Raptor thumbed the activation rune of the axe to life, a throaty rumble filled the air. Sil'nei laid there, unable to move. The Raptor spoke again, but with lucidity this time.

"We have come for you. Ave Dominus Nox." The Raptor raised the chain-axe for a brutal chop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another burst of light that was from a jump pack. But instead of a firey scream, it was loud roar. A silver clad giant landed behind the Raptor, a bolter was aimed at it's head.

"You're already dead." The bolter fired, blowing bits of ceramite and bone out of the Raptor's face. Sil'nei got a better look at his saviour. His armor was silver, save for the blood-red winged skull on his breastplate. An eagle with a human skull was painted onto his left shoulder, show he was a Doom Eagle. Sil'nei stood up, deeply ashamed at his failure to react to his own predicament.

"Thank you, brother. He would have killed me." The black eye-lenses stared at him.

"We're dead already. We've nothing to worry about. I thank you for ending that Champion though. He killed our Sergeant. Are you the only one?"

"No, my sqaud is back that way, awaiting word from me."

"I would hurry if I were you. They are coming." Sil'nei was about to ask what he meant when three more Raptors swooped down. Two wore jump packs, and the other had a set of daemon wings instead. He was helmetless, his face was avian, like a bird of prey. Fangs jutted from his mouth at awkward angles, he wore no gauntlets or boots. His feet had been twisted into talons, and long claws had grown from his fingers. Sil'nei watched as the Doom Eagle charged at the Raptors with his bolter firing and his chainsword screaming. Sil'nei wasted no time, quickly throwing himself over the roof of the building, grabbing the ladder as he fell. He felt his arm wrench out of it's socket, causing him to curse loudly. He slung his stalker bolter over his good arm, and let himself slide down.

He began a quick run back towards where his squad was waiting. As he ran he heard the scream of a jump pack. Looking over his shoulder he saw one of the Night Lord Raptors following him. He ran as fast as he could, knowing he wouldn't be able to hit a target moving that fast. He remembered the vox earpiece he had, he tapped it twice to switch it on.

"Drake, this is Wyrven, come in." The vox crackled for a second, before he heard the reassuring voice of his sergeant.

"Go ahead."

"I'm on my way back, I'm coming in hot. Repeat, coming in hot."

"Understood, Wyrven. We will be waiting, brother. For Vulkan!" The vox went dead, leaving Sil'nei alone with no sound but the jump pack, and his heavy breathing. Soon he got back to the rendevous point, but saw no sign of his brothers. He looked around, watching as the Raptor landed and began to stalk towards him. Another on landed silently, and Sil'nei realized it was the winged one. An evil grinned crossed it's face.

"Well, well little wyrm. Are you lost? Shall we help you? No, we think we'll just butcher you. Leave you to the carrion birds." As the two Traitors neared Sil'nei, he heard the loud voice of the Sergeant.

"Strike from the sky, brothers!" Sil'nei heard a loud roaring sound, and saw a massive drop pod hit the street behind the Night Lords. Instead of the green of the Salamanders, it was instead covered in the heraldry of the Black Templars. A massive Dreadnaught, hung with banners of the black cross on a field of white, stomped down the ramp. More drop pods fell to the street, three in all. Three Templars stormed out of each pod, all aiming weapons at the Night Lords. The one with wings hissed in annoyance and leapt into the sky, only to pepped with fire from the Dreadnaught's assault cannon. The Night Lord fell to the ground, crippled, while the other revved his chainblades. He spoke to the assembled Loyalists.

"Cowards! Who will face me, blade to blade?" A large Black Templar, wearing no helmet, wielding a large power axe, and a shield stepped forward.

"I am Castellan Artur, foul heretic. I will kill you." The Salamanders and Templars watched as the two warriors circled slowly, while the crippled one stirred feebly close by. The Castellan charged the Night Lord, who used his jump pack to leap out of the way. The Castellan swept his axe to the side, catching the chainblade of the Night Lord as he swung it. The Castellan slammed his shield into the helmet of the Night Lord, staggering him. A low sweep of the axe took one of the Night Lords legs off, causing him to fall. While he was on the ground, the Castellan took his axe and cut the Night Lord's sword arm off at the elbow. Another chop took his gunhand off.

The Castellan paid no further attention to the Traitors as he walked towards the Sergeant. The Dreadnaught stomped after him, casually stepping on the armless Night Lord. A crunch of bone and ceramite was all heralded the Night Lord's demise.

"Greetings, Sergeant. I am Castellan Artur, of the Black Templars 4th Company. We've come to aid with the Doom Eagles. This is Brother Sibrand, a veteran of a hundred crusades."

"Greetings, Salamanders. I am eager to join you in combat." The Salamanders nodded in consent, while several of the other Black Templars had staked the crippled Night Lord to the ground.

"What are your men doing, Castellan?"

"Do not worry about it, Sergeant. That Traitor is possessed by daemon-kind. We will drive it out, so we can fully destroy this heretic." The Castellan began to chant, as the possessed Traitor began to spasm and convulse. Soon the other Templars joined in, even Brother Sibrand. A thick, oily black smoke began to pour out of the Traitors mouth. The Castellan pointed his finger at it, the chant becoming louder, more fervent. It looked like a fire was burning at the center of the smoke. The smoke then began to envelope itself, like it was devouring itself. It suddenly dissapeared in a flash of fire, leaving a broken shell of a Traitor Astartes. The shattered Night Lord laid where he had been, rocking back and forth as much as his bindings would allow.

"End him." At that command, Brother Sibrand raised his left arm, a power fist with an underslung heavy flamer. A small burst of holy fire enveloped the Night Lord, causing a scream of anguish to tear from the traitor's lips. The Salamanders watched impassively. Pity was not spared for a heretic.

"We should hurry, the Doom Eagles will need our assisstance."

"I agree, Sergeant. Form up your men. Let's kill these heretics. For the Emperor!" The cry was taken up by Templar and Salamander alike, as they all marched towards the square that Sil'nei had recently escaped from. They soon heard the sounds of battle; bolter fire, the whine of jump packs, and various battle cries. Two jump pack equpped Salamanders stood at the ready, as the Sergeant gave them their orders.

"You are going to jump onto the roof and locate the largest cluster of heretics. You will then prime your grenades and throw them, taking out a large body of them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"Well, get going." The two battle-brothers exchanged glances, then ignited their packs. Soon, a series of explosions were heard, and the two squads charged. The square was a scene of carnage, littered with the mangled bodies of Loyalist and heretic alike. One Salamander, Brother Bah'tet, fired his melta gun into the massed Iron Warriors, armor and flesh disentegrating at its touch. He roared in triumph, but was cut short as he was cut down by heavy bolter fire. Two Night Lord havocs stood close by, aiming mainly at Brother Sibrand. But the Dreadnaught just shrugged it off, charging at the havocs.

"For the Emperor! His Realm must be cleansed of the taint of the heretic! For His Will is my torch, and with it I will destroy you all!" He swung his power fist, pulverizing the havocs. He turned his attention to the Warmaster of the Night Lords.

"Hello, Sibrand. Remember me? I'm the one that put you in that walking casket." The Warmaster stood in Terminator plate, clutching a corrupted thunder hammer in his right hand, while his left mirrored Sibrands; it was a power fist.

"Warmaster Tiberion. I will send your soul screaming to you false gods! There is only the Emperor, he is our faith and shield!" Sibrand charged at the Warmaster, who stood calmly. As the Sibrand neared, the Warmaster leapt up, aided by a jump pack that had been jury rigged onto the Terminator armor. The Loyalists were stunned, Terminator armor wasn't supposed to do that. The Warmaster landed un-gracefully on the top of Sibrand, the magnetic locks on his boots kept him from falling. He swung the hammer, causing eldritch power to course over the Dreadnaughts hull. He swung again, ceramite crumpling under the force of the blows.

The Sergeant watched as the Night Lord warmaster hammered at the Dreadnaught, slowly destroying him. The Castellan was down, thrown through the precinct wall by an explosion. The Sergeant looked around for anything he could use, his bolter woundn't do anything to Terminator plate. A fallen Templar, an assault, lay near him. His jump pack was still intact. The Sergeant knelt by the Templar, hitting the quick release button on his chest.

"Your sacrifice was not in vain, brother." He picked up the jump pack, slinging it onto his back. It connected magnetically to his backpack, the straps locking across his torso. It had been a century since his time as an assault marine, but he recalled exactly what his sergeant had instructed. A savage grin crossed his craggy features as he activated the jump pack.

The Warmaster readied another swing, when a green and black torpedo hit him. His boots detatched from the Dreadnaught, allowing both of them to fall to the ground. The Warmaster stood up, looking at his oppenent. The Sergeant had removed his helmet, showing his onyx black skin and glowing red eyes. One of them was natural, the other was a bionic, after he had lost the other to a World Eaters axe. He held an enormous chainsword, the hilt fashioned like a dragon's head. The Warmaster also noted the Black Templar jump pack, and chuckled at how ridiculous he looked.

"Now, Traitor, you will die!" Using a small boost from the jump pack, he charged the Warmaster. The Warmaster swung the hammer, but even for a Terminator it was an unwieldly weapon. The Sergeant managed to dodge it, and swung with the massive chainsword. The sword had been forged in the foundries of Nocturne, one of the Forge masters using an ancient process to harden the teeth of a Firedrake, using those as the blades teeth. High Gothic runes ran up the right side of the chain housing, reading "In imperatoris nomen." The Firedrake teeth bit into the shoulder pauldron of the Warmaster, chewing into it. With a savage wrench, the shoulder piece came off, clattering to the gorund.

The Warmaster roared in rage, swinging his hammer. The hammer connected with the Sergeants jump pack, causing it to ignite. Before it could take off and fly him to the Emperor knows where, the Sergeant hit the release button. The jump pack thumped to the ground, as it began to glow and shake. The Sergeant dived out of the way, as the jump pack exploded, showering the Warmaster in burning promethium. But his Terminator plate protected him, as he marched towards the dazed Sergeant. He raised the hammer, preparing to kill the Salamander.

"In the name of Dorn!" The roar came from the Castellan, who leapt at the Warmaster, swinging his power axe. The axe connected with the Warmaster's right arm, burning into the armor. The Warmaster turned to the Templar, preparing to swing again, but he forgot the Salamander. The massive chainsword howled as it chewed through the weakened armor where the shoulder pad was gone. The Warmaster screamed as the sword chewed through the ancient armor, eating into the flesh beneath. Soon the arm dangled at his side, useless. He tried to swing the hammer one handed, but it was a two handed weapon, unusable with only one. The Castellan chopped into that arm, rendering it useless as well. The massive form of Brother Sibrand stomped towards the fallen Warmaster, the other Templar and the Salamander standing aside.

"You think you have one, Imperial dogs? This but a small portion of our might! I spit on your Corpse-God, you weak blood fools." Sibrand looked down on the Warmaster, aiming his heavy flamer at him.

"In the Emperor's name, let none survive." A whoosh of igniting flame sounded, covering the Warmaster. The Warmaster's screams of agony lasted several minutes, as Terminator plate is hard to burn through. Soon, Sibrand turned towards the two commanders, his front plating crumpled and smashed. The Sergeant and the Castellan were little better. Half of the Castellan's face was a bloody ruin, the skin gone to reveal the muscles beneath. The Sergeants face was blistered from the jump pack explosion, his bionic eye dead. His left arm was out of it's socket, when the hammer connected with him and the jump pack.

What was left of the Black Templars and the Salamanders gathered in front of the precinct, as thirteen or fourteen silver clad figures walked out of the building. These were an honor guard, as the rest of the three squads had perished helping their saviors. A tall man, wearing black robes and body armor, carrying a golden power sword stepped out behind the Doom Eagles.

"I am Inquisitor Xerxes Rex, of the Ordo Hereticus. I thank you for your aid against those foul beasts." The Sergeant noticed the Inquisitor narrowed his eyes, taking in the Sergeant's unusual appearance. Any reply was cut off as a loud cry was heard.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULL FOR THE SKULL THRONE! KILL, MAIM, BURN!" A massive red Dreadnaught charged around the corner, followed by red clad Traitor Marines. But where the World Eaters were loud, roaring cries to their god, those that followed were eerily silent. Clad in light blue and gold they were, their helmets topped with massive crests. They marched in ordered rows, following one dressed like them, but with flowing robes as well. They were the twisted Sons of Magnus, the Thousand Sons. Two Champions, one clad in blood red, wielding two massive chain-axes; the other, clad in blue and gold, wielding a staff crackling with arcane energies. Both pointed at the Loyalist remnants. The warriors charged.

0000

High above, in an Astartes battle barge, the Vermiculus Pugno, three squads of Crimson Fists were preparing to drop. One, clad in artificier armor, wielding an ancient plasma pistol in his left hand with a powersword at his hip spoke into his vox mic.

"This is the Master of the Line. Drop us." The seals on the drop pods realeased, the pods plumeting towards the ground. The Master of the Line spoke to the Marines in his pod.

"There is only the Emperor!"

"He is our faith and shield!" The Master of the Line smiled as they picked up speed. This was going to be glorious.

[xxxblackspider]

***************Disclaimer****************
This is not lore correct and I dont care. Also this is kind of a biography so it has my twist on real events in some parts. It also has bits and pieces of quotes in it. Some of the events may be slightly exaggerated... a little.
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A Tale to be Remembered

The ancient Templar Apothecary ran into the room and slammed the door behind him. He set the boy down and rested his Heavy Bolter on the floor by the wall. The boy who aspired to be an astartes was calm for the current situation. The apothecary removed his helmet and quickly barred the door the apothecary only showed his age in the lines on his face and his speech. This man was old even by astartes standards. He looked to the boy and said, "I am sorry son we don't have much time, the Tyranids will soon be here... You would have made a fine astartes one day." The boy replied, "Would you please tell me the story of High Marshall Prosperan Son one more time." The lines on the old man's face softened and he sat down next to the boy. He said, "Ok, one last time, I first met Prosperan Son...

It was when I was going through my initiation with a fellow neophyte who we nicknamed Roboto because he had a bionic... well we wont talk about that, we called him Roboto. Prosperan Son at this point was a sword brethren and he tested our skills under the watchful eye of the High Marshall at that time, High Marshall Ignotis. After myself and roboto had been initiated into the templars Prosperan and I came to know each other very well along with many other members of the templars.

Our first true battle experience came when we were on The Eternal Crusader and a Night Lord strike force attacked. An excerpt from Prosperan's own journal reads "
How had it come to this? How had they managed to come close enough to the Eternal Crusader to manage boarding actions?! These were the questions that passed through may mind as I took three steps back, barely avoiding the downward slash of a Blood Letter's blade. Raising my power sword in his right hand, I swung my blade to the right, attempting to remove the Daemon's horned head. The monstrosity brought its black hellblade up to parry the strike, locking blades with me. I pressed my blade against the Daemon's, attempting to break the lock. I leapt backwards, causing the Daemon to lose its footing and fall to the floor. It didn't have time to recover, and the tip of my blade slammed down through its red eyes, piercing all the way through its body and into the floor. The crimson skinned Daemon flailed madly for a moment before exploding in a burst of dried blood; its material body destroyed. "Disgusting," I snarled before pulling his blade out of the floor."
That battle was the first time that I had been in contact with chaos and I knew from that second why every astartes hated the forces of chaos with every fiber of their being.

After the battle with the Night Lords Prosperan Son was promoted to Reclusiarch and he became the official scribe of the Templars, he was to keep records of all of the templars crusades and events. During the battle however something had happened to High Marshall Ignotis when he had fought with the Night Lord champion, he had been touched by the forces of the warp when Joker, the chaos sorcerer, had opened a portal back home for the Night Lords. The High Marshall increasingly kept to himself until one day he fell to the warp and took many templars with him. He left the ship with his fellows and the flew directly into the eye of terror and they have not been seen since. After this occured Prosperan Son quickly was promoted to High Marshall and he commanded the Black Templars for many glorious years.

When Prosperan Son died it was a glorious and terrible tale.
Prosperan was planet-side and had to send a message to his templars through one of the astropaths when something went terribly wrong. The astropath suddenly started screaming and babbling. Prosperan Son recognized the telltale signs of a possession from the warp when he saw it. Prosperan rushed forward to attempt to kill the astropath before he could do too much damage, but he was too late. The astropath exploded and from the warp stepped a Greater Daemon of Khorne. Prosperan cried out and drew his power sword piercer de obscurum and charged forward to do battle with the daemon. Prosperan struck first but the Daemon matched him blow for blow. The daemon was fast but Prosperan knew the tricks of the warp and he was able to avoid his blows time and again. The daemon cackled and said that he would enjoy killing Prosperan. Prosperan retreated up a set of stairs to the roof of the mountain keep he was at. The daemon followed him. The snow whipped by the wind blew in Prosperan's eyes and made the roof slippery. The Daemon Charged and tackled Prosperan. He stabbed Prosperan in the thigh and Prosperan cried out in pain. Then they slid off the roof tumbling down the mountain-side. Prosperan managed to pull out his combat knife and stab the Daemon. The daemon cried out and Prosperan stabbed again. The Daemon died and Prosperan felt the sweet tasted of victory in his mouth. Then they hit the ground and Prosperan felt his ribs break. He gasped for breath but it was too late. Prosperan lay back and breathed a long sigh of relief as his hearts stopped pumping and he realized he achieved a glorious victory.

After his death a templar named Kite Arca became High Marshall, but his command was short for there was a battle in which Kite Arca and his marshall slew half of an ork WAAAGH! but were cut down in the process. The battle against the ork WAAAGH!! went as such...

Woody crushed an Ork skull with the bottom of his boot and looked around at the karnage they had caused. They were on a world that had a minor ork threat on it and he had come with High Marshall Kite to wipe it clean of the Xenos. They had just wiped out a large number of orks guarding the main encampment and in front of them stood the last and biggest of the ork holdouts. Kite looked up, laughed, pointed at the front gate of the encampment then proceeded forward with Woody. There were numerous shoota boyz on the makeshift walls and when they noticed the two larger than average astartes approaching they opened fire. Woody blasted two with shots from his bolt pistol while Kite jumped skyward with his jump pack. Woody followed with two more shots from his pistol and a jump to the walls. Kite had already cleared part of the walls with his sword when Woody arrived and laid about with his hammer. After quickly clearing the walls Woody and Kite, made a jump into the middle of the encampment where the Armored Nob in charge was located. They mopped up there quickly and left the encampment.
As they were headed to the top of the hill the ground broke away in front of them a huge number of orks streamed up out of the ground. Kite bellowed a fierce cry of battle and they both charged the orks. The ferocity with which Kite and Woodie attacked drove the orks back but more and more came. Kite had just begun to think there may be an entire WAAAGH! down there when he saw a Warboss known to lead a WAAAGH! Kite wondered where they had come from, they couldn't have been there when they arrived. He yelled to Woody to retreat to where they could make a plan. There was a cliff nearby they could go to so they couldn't be flanked.
When they arrived the Orks were close behind but Kite said, "Woody how could they have gotten here?" Woody replied, "They probably were hidden underground the whole time bolstering their forces. Kite sighed and said,"This doesn't look good does it Woody..." Woody replied,"No Kite it doesn't." Kite and Woody took refuge in a large cave where they couldn't be attacked from behind and they waited. Soon Orks started streaming in to fight the two astartes. Kite and Woody used their jumped packs to stay above the swinging axes and drop down in random places from above. Woody would kill 3 orks in one blow from his hammer, raining down thundery justice upon them and Kite would decapitate them or punch them with his power fists "Thunder" and "Lightining." Upon Woody's fists you could make out the words "Pity" on his left hand and "Fool" on his right when he swung to crush an ork face.
Soon hundreds of orks lay dead upon the floor piling up in front of the opening making it so the orks had to climb over their dead to get to the astartes. All to quickly the fuel in Kite and Woody's jump packs ran out and they were down to fighting on foot. They fought valiantly for hours slaughtering hundreds of orks. There were so many ork dead laying at the entrance that the orks trying to advance had to make pathways through their own dead. But, Woody and Kite were not unscathed, Woody had received a bad wound to the side and Kite had taken a bolter round to the knee.
Hours they fought the Orks slaughtering hundreds and taking wounds themselves. The night had passed and Woody and Kite were looking weary and in pain. Kite would cut down four orks and fall to a knee but every time he felt like giving up he would hear in the back of his mind his most powerful and godlike of apothecaries say, "KITE ARCA!!!" and he would be rejuvenated and fight on.
Finally after many more hours Kite fell and Woody fell next to him surrounded by ork dead they grasped their weapons and Kite bellowed with all of the life left in him, "FOR THE EMPEROR." Then the Warboss swung his axe downwards and decapitated the High Marshall.

Then a templar named human became High Marshall and we have the templars we have today. So ends the tale of the Greatest High Marshall, Prosperan
son.

The Old Templar stood up quickly because he could hear the Tyranids running down the hall outside of the room. He grabbed his Heavy Bolter and told the boy to stand in the corner. He backed into the center of the room facing the door and waited. He could hear the Tyranids breaking through the door now. As the first of the hormagaunts rushed through the splintered door The Old Templar blasted it to pieces. He killed them as they came in. He slaughtered many tyranids as they got closer and closer to him. His power armor became stained in Xenos blood and his slightly grizzled cheeks had flecks of tyranid blood all over them. Then he heard that dreaded sound, the tink-tink-tinking of an empty bolter. The tyranids rushed in and surround him. He kicked them away and knew there was only one thing left to do. The Old Templar drew up with all of his might and stomped the ground with his power boots.

The boy awoke in the corner of the room. He saw dead tyranids lying all over the floor and a small depression going down to where The Old Templar lay. The boy rushed over to him and knelt beside him. The Old Templar had been pierced by tyranid claws repeatedly and lay dying on the floor. He reached up to his neck and grabbed a small pendant with the templar symbol on the front and the words "Good Times, Good Times" on the back. The templar gave the boy the pendant and said, "Did you ever wonder how I knew so much about the previous High Marshall and the current one High Marshall Human?" The boy nodded his head and The Old Templar replied, " High Marshall Prosperan Son was not only my commander, he was my best friend as well, I want you to have the pendant he gave me... *His eyes lose focus for a second but he refocuses with an effort* I want you to have the pendant he gave me as a reminder... a reminder to always accept any challenge, no matter the odds. The Old Templar reached up and touch the boy's face then his body went limp and his hand fell to the ground.

[Kite Arca]

Please dont post in here unless its a Story for the Completion. You can Pm me or Son's if you are going to run late on your story what or what not.

[Prosperan Son]

A new Story by Ramadi Bones of the Templars. While short, it reflects his time spent here and we appreciate him.


As I look back on the events of the past, I am satisfied with how things have turned out. There was much confusion after the exudous of some of our fellow breatheren that put me in doubt about the future of our chapter. The clarity that comes to me now is partly hindsight but mostly from the fact that I no longer have any sort of emotionf. But I digres, let me continue on with this story.

I was found by the former High Marshall and brought into the fold after proving myself after my initiation. The training, though tough, was fair and tought me a lot about my weapons and about myself. I am happy that my chapter brothers that trained me did not leave like the others. I did not stay as a Neophyte long since I once again proved myself as a trustworthy and loyal member of the Black Templars.

When the doubt started to settle within the chapter I was aware of how fragile we had let ourselves become, including myself. Many of the brothers had left even before the dust had been kicked up, let alone settled. And as our new High Marshall was still getting settled into his new position as well as our other new comanding officers, I stepped in to help bring some structure and formality. And without intending to I showed my natural talent with armour and machines.

Now, after 30 years training at Mars, I am ready to help lead my fellow brothers to victory. I shall endevor to help my chapter to respect the machine spirits so that there armour and weapons do not fail them in our Eternal Crusade. I shall give my High Marshall the best advice I can with what the Machine Spirits are whispering. And I will make sure that the Techmarines under my command are well trained, since I can not be everywhere, to handle any situation and support his fellow battle brothers.

Honorare ad Deus Mechanicus, in Maximum Marshall et ad Niger Templariorum.

Forge Master,
Frater Astrotechnicus,
Farrar "Bones" Vir Ingeniosus

Secondary Story:
Burning. I feel burning and am surrounded by darkness. What is that noise? Is that talking? I think I just heard my name used, are they talking about me? What has happened? The burning is getting worse. I need to see what is going on.
I open my eye slowly and am greeted by bright light. Wait a second, why did only one eye open? Looking around I see Apothicary Nigrumaranea, he looks back at me and comes over.
"How are you doing?"
I give him a slight glare, "I can only seem to use one eye, my body is on fire." Though thinking about it my right leg, left arm and other parts of my body seem to not have any feeling at all.
"Well I obviously survived. But what happened to me?"
"We had a surprise attack from some heretics from within our own chapter. You took a hit from a flamer."
"I think it is coming back to me."

Closing my eye, the memories come back to me in rapid flashes. The images begain to slow down and form a picture story in my head. I am in my room working on my Bolt Pistol and hear a noise at the open door. Looking up I see Brother Lapsisangelus half visable in the doorway.
"What are you doing there brother?"
Without saying a word he steps into my room and raises the Flamer twords me. Luckly at the moment an explosion in the ship causes him to loose balance for the briefest moment causing his shot to be off center. The first shot hits me in the arm and part of my chest. The flames licking up the left side of my face.
Without thinking I rush him, grabbing the weapon with my good hand and forcing it down. With what is left of my still burning left hand I wrap it around his throat, choking the life out of him.
I feel a burning sensation and realize that he has pulled the trigger on the Flamer again. Burning himself as well as me again. Though with grim satisfaction I seem him attempt to scream but he is unable to with my bone hand crushing his throat.
I push the barrel of the Flamer into his gut as the weapon is still throwing out gouts of flame. I see the pain in his eyes as the fire burns through his body and I finally feel his esophagus collapse. Standing over him for a little while making sure my enemy is dead, I finally left the pain and exhaustion come over me and slowly fall to the floor.

Opening my eye again. Apothicary Nigrumaranea says to me.
"Your natural physiology helped you to survive your ordeal. You have heavy amounts of metal in your bone structure similar to Skeletal Petrification chemical treatment that many humans use."
"So what happens to me now?"
"Well we are building you cybernetic replacments and then we will be sending you to Mars for Techmarine training."
"Why are you sending me there?" I ask.
"Well one of the Imperial Fists Techmarines noticed that the machine spirit in the Flamer was trying not to hurt you. On a subconcious level you were comunicating with it and with that recommendation we are sending you for training. We lost a lot of good brothers for one reason or another and now need to fill our ranks and positions by those with the talents and skills to excell as we replenish our ranks."
"This is not where I was expecting to go but I will take up this honor for my High Marshall, the Black Templars and my fellow brothers."
"We are pleased to hear that and when you get back, High Marshall Prosperanfilius will no longer be a honorary title but a permament one."

So much has changed while I was sedated and so much more will change before I get back. I don't know how my future will turn out but I will meet it head on and charging into it if need be. Just like how I should me my enemies, be the from within, without or from beyond.

[ramadibones]

I am sorry for some of my gramatical errors. I do not have spell check and hope that you keep that in mind when reading my stories. Though I would like to point out that my second story is my official story for this competition.

[Prosperan Son]

( Human's stories)

Epilogue
The smoke from the battle was starting to fan off. A young neophyte climbed a pile of rubble at the top of which was his commanding officer and during the battle, his tutor. The neophyte found his chaplain sitting on a pile of concrete whispering litanies and prayers to the emperor while staring out at the former battlefield of melee and carnage.
“I found my bolter.” said the neophyte, “the chain it was bound to was severed by a PDF sentinel's mechanical foot” He held up the end of a chain that was attached to his vambrace and showed the handle of his bolter with the end of it showing the broken link still attached.
“Sometimes chains break, it's what you do once they have broken that matters, if they even break at all. There will be no penance Hygiliak. Have another forged immediately” The neophyte twitched upon hearing his full name spoken.
The neophyte nodded and stared out at the burning governor’s mansion, his hatred of the leader's betrayal stirring in his heart.
“Master Les, during the battle when our High Marshall was relaying an order to you, he called you Iron Breaker. No one has called you that from what I've noticed”
“You make me proud keeping such awareness even in the din of your first battle. If only you had that skill when a 12 tonne sentinel ambushed your squad and killed your initiate tutor.”
The neophyte hung his head in shame also knowing the added bad omen that came with losing his blessed bolter. The High Chaplain reached and fumbled with the clasp of his helmet and flung it open. Seals hissed angrily as his power armor's machine spirit was denied occupancy of his helmet, ornamented with the grim and constant reminder of the emperor's face. When he spoke his voice was almost as brash as it was in VOX communications. “It is the name of my home planet.”
Les looked down at a PDF guardsman’s corpse and noticed a small box in the dead man's pocket, reaching for it out of curiosity for what it might be. Fingering the pocket he produced the guardsman’s last pack of bac sticks. If the neophyte had ever seen anything more than a grim from the chaplain, he might have thought it was a frown, but to his surprise the Master of Sanctity took his storm bolter and let loose the entire rounds he had left in his clip.
With the end of the gun slightly glowing, he put a bac stick to his lips and lit the end. Gil watched as the chaplain closed his eyes. This puzzled him greatly, he knew that the chaplain knew that his multi-lung would filter out all toxins that the filthy bac stick might imbue upon him, but still he watched.
“For the ritual.”
“Hmm?”
“It's for the ritual” The chaplain opened his eyes and stared straight at the neophyte's eye lenses, making Gil feel like he was staring into his soul.
“I don't understand really.” Gil looked around and undid his own helmet to meet his Commander's stare.
“From before I was a chaplain.”
The neophyte twisted his expression into a moment of pure thought. He couldn't imagine his Master of Sanctity, as ancient as he was, to once have been a mortal man.
“I did not appear out of the warp donning the black”
The neophyte considered heresy at his commanding officers knowledge of what he himself was thinking, but then realized that he was the first of many to be taken under Les's great wing.
Les closed his eyes again and drew in the smoke from the bac stick. The taste and smell bringing back memories that haunted him, but weren't as severe now that his senses were completing the illusion that his former life had been before his first encounter with the Black Templar’s. He started to speak, reaching and clicking the bead on his VOX speaker in-case more orders would be relayed once the planets full pacification was confirmed.
He spoke of times before he was inducted, before his rank was earned and given, of a time long before the neophyte's own birth. He drew in smoke, and Spoke.

The 14th

No one knew the purpose that the structure held. It was black as shadow but had an aura around it that resonated hate and anger. Many locals said it was haunted, others said that it was around when the planet was first settled hundreds of years ago. More importantly, everyone stayed away from it.
Les had no interest in the building, it was just a shape on the horizon that just loomed but eventually sank out of his conscious thought in his everyday life. He grew up never curious about it as his peers were, he kept to himself and helped his family out when he could, making repairs where he was needed in his district and studying when he wasn't doing that. He was an average boy of 16 Terran years, and like most future would-be tech priests, a loner.
The summer had been a grim one, his father taking his own life only the summer before.
His father's death being a bit of a personal sundering for himself and his family, made his extended family and even family friends, grasp at strands that barely existed. Aron was one of such family friends.
Aron wasn't much younger than Les, but growing up in another district, gave the youth a bit of an advantage to being exposed to many situations and the knowledge that it brought. A disadvantage to Les was mostly that Aron had come from a well-to-do family, him being the grandson to the realtor that had granted Les's family to live at his residence and his reluctant parents, dubbing said realtor's with a pre-cruxian title and the privilege to bare witness to Les's eventual birth. This explanation being one that was repeated constantly, was eventually shortened to cousin.
During a lesson one day, Les's data slate gave a notification. He looked to see Aron had asked him what he would be doing for Lowas, an annual holiday on his planet. Before he could even respond Aron had said “Good because I want you to meet someone.” Les shook it off and finished the lesson pushing the date back in his mind, but secretly entertained the idea of how a normal holiday might turn into something that wouldn't be a complete waste of time.
The day of Lowas came and Les had stayed home from his studies, his excitement finally getting the better of him and even if it was a disappointment, his respite from his studies would be that much longer. A tone rang throughout the house that sent him hurdling towards the display. Aron was outside.
Les had no idea how Aron knew he had stayed home but he was more concerned with the state his attire was in and how fast he could sprint out.
When he got to the entrance, he grasped Aron by the wrist as he did the same in a warriors shake. Les climbed into the front seat and the night began.
…
It was dusk. The pair had finally met up with Aron's friends with pleasantries were exchanged as well as names. Her name stuck out though. Seah.
Les could hardly stand to look Seah in the eye but managed to talk to her after Aron pulled him aside and told him a few things about her and different conversation starters. Les listened and took mental notes and when he returned he started to converse with Seah, going further and further into more personal issues, eventually leaving the room to speak to her in private. When all was said the two had feelings for each other but were to be separated as the night's conclusion came to an end. All parties going their separate ways.
…
The thunderhawk touched down, jutting out it's ramp and the two marines departed, leaving behind the dead and fallen, brother and heretic alike, for the apothecaries to comb through before the fleet would make it's final exit.
On board, the two were sequestered together in their own quarters as it would become Les' duty to find another tutor for Gil, but that honor would have to wait until they were aboard the Eternal Crusader to begin the task, and until then Gil would be Les' welcomed burden.
As they settled in, the two stared out the window, Les licking his lips, letting his senses and memories relive themselves, Gil noticed. Angered, Les looked at Gil and glared. “Studying me again, Neophyte?”
“Well sir, you were interrupted, but I have to ask, what all does this have to do with... anything really?”
Les reached for the Neophyte's vambrace and gripped the ceramite and hoisted Gil's arm into the air letting the broken chain's clinging links echo across the walls. “A chain is unbreakable as long as every link is as strong as the last one. Every link must be inspected thoroughly before joining it to the others. Only through foreign interaction can a chain be broken apart from the rest. The test of loyalty cannot be found in the strength of the metal, but in the mettle of those willing to be loyal! Of all the souls down there were wasted and condemned from their duty to the emperor because of a single man's will was as mailable. ”
The chaplain let go, flinging the neophyte's arm to the side, both of them hearing the servo's in Gil's armor wine in protest.
“I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend you Lord, one can only be made aware of so much in a day and the other marines and even master sergeants speak in awe of you. You may not know how steeped in legend you are. Please, continue.”
Les stared back out and flicked through his memories,
…
A green dim light exploded in the dark chambers of Les' room. His data slate luminous enough to stir him awake made him groan. He picked it up. Seah had sent him a message telling him she wanted to meet up with him and that she was scared, she ended the transmission with “Aron....”
He gathered himself together and bolted out to the compound's gate, climbing onto his skimmer and soared off towards the coordinance that Seah had given him, disregarding where they would even lead him to. He stood on the exact beacon that his logistics had given him, but he saw nothing around but dunes and drifts.
A scream sounded out. He turned his head and started running in it's direction, wind howling behind him, pushing him faster towards a rocky outcropping from the sand. He peered at it and saw a mouth of a cave in front of what only could be a cavern behind it that shunted back into the desert and without any remorse or fear he ran into it, following the screams.
Deeper and deeper he went, his nav switching to sonar to help guide him in the dark, his flashlight illuminating patches of phosphorous embedded in the rock. He was half a click away from the coordinate beacon when Seah ran into him and collapsed.
Holding her in his arms, he gave praise to the emperor that she was safe but appeared worse for wear. Minor injuries peppering her face and exposed areas. Weeping, she frantically started jibbering but Les couldn't understand her. He gathered her up and started to walk out, the patches of blue and neon phosphorous guiding him out lest he needed to take out his navi, he'd rather have risked getting lost because at least then he would be lost with her.
…
Once they were outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and smelled the cool night air. The boom from the falling stellar object shook the terrain. Through the sand Les felt the terrain shift, he looked back and saw the trail the object had made and ran with Seah in his arms
“Targets heading west, pursue?”
“Warp signature unrecognized, but confirmed, affirmative!”
Les kept running, he knew there was no good in confronting this new danger now that the other has passed, he just wanted to be back home, anywhere but here and now, Seah or not. He ran.
A courtyard opened up with each footstep. Suddenly, he knew where he was. The structure.
Finally he answered to the fatigue. Facing the dead end that was at the end of the massive corridor, he decided he could put Seah down. He started to set her down when beams of light surrounded him and a metallic voice sounded in a tone of iron twisting against itself. “Halt!”
He set her down and leaned her against the mighty wall of the building but kept his low to the ground stance. He waited for more commands. He looked over and noticed that the lights were moving but just slightly. Where they communicating? The clatter of dull tapping and clicking was confirmed when one of the lights turned away from Les and shone onto one of those that had it's lights pointing at him. A chitinous exoskeleton of black and white was what made up the Gazer still shining on Seah and Les, with the accusers light still pointing at him. He was signing. Les stared until the light returned to him.
“What is your name?” the Gazer asked. Les stammered “L-L-Les”
“And yours?”
“Her name is-”
“I asked her, what her name is.”
Seah's eyes were closed but when she tried to speak, muffled and misplaced words erupted. The dark men raised huge guns at both of them.
“Her name is Seah.” Les protested
“Then let her tell us that.”
Seah started to weep and her jibbering continued. She wailed and cried louder looking at Les trying to speak to him but was frustrated at why he couldn't understand. More clicks were happening behind Les. He turned to look as the lights pointed onto him and the figures shifted pointing their weapons at him. He didn't blink. His fists clenched and his hatred and angst at the whole situation wanted to erupt out of him. He was about to start speaking when a sound behind the figures made them all turn to look. The sound of wings flapping and something gliding onto the ground.
Les was sure that the figures lights had stopped working or they went through a surge of some sort because what he saw couldn't exist. A cloud, rippling into many colors and shapes, growing and expanding taking shape and then dissipating.
In a display of Purples and Neons a bolt of lightning shot out of the cloud hitting and throwing one of the figures. A heartbeat later the figures started to fire their massive guns at the cloud being rewarded with shrieks and cries of agony. The cloud at once took shape and the form it took was as puzzling as it's former atmospheric appearance was. It walked on two legs but where it should have arms, were two ever changing shapes, one moment being a set of claws, another, hands, a third change and they looked like pincers from a beetle.
Taking on wild colors now gesturing itself, the bird like creature swatted at the figures as well with spike like tentacles. Les took this as a sign and picked up Seah and ran past the fray. The shrieks turning tone to different pitches and depths.
Setting Seah down, she said she was well enough to run herself, Les taking this change to take out his navi and find out the nearest building's info and distance. After the last of the thumps from the dark figures guns he heard the iron voices again relaying their distance He wondered what the building could be. A chem refinery? Manufactorum? Storage Depot? Onward, towards the districts, toward the beginning of a building that either was part of a district or one that would lead into one, it mattered not. The voices he heard were shouting orders at each other. They neared the formation, passing by massive steel containers and cranes. The voices were relentless, relaying each tank he was hiding behind, every catwalk they traversed, deeper and deeper they went. The glowglobes helped him navigate even further in when he realized that maybe they should split up. He wanted to get Seah out of harms way and needed to find out how. Maybe hide just her so he could keep running and lead them away.
They finally reached a catacomb of hallways, he ducked into one and pulled her with him.
“Seah, I want you to take this and go home” He handed her his navi. She looked puzzled and tried to speak but her words were still garbled and inaudible. She started to weep leaning her head on his chest. He put the navi against her and she looked up and he had to read all what was in her eyes. She was scared too. She was two Terran years older than he was but she still was afraid and terrified with what was yet to come.
“We'll meet up at your place, we're just splitting up to throw them off, I don't know if it will work but they're not slowing down and we are.”
She kissed him, turned away, and started to run, he did the same, but ran towards the sounds of iron.
…
The cloud took form and squawked. A hand reached out and petted the birds bleeding wounds and in an explosion of purple miasma, the creature disappeared.
…
The figures caught up to him faster than he could have predicted. He was looking for them, but still, they found him.
“Halt. State your name.”
“Les. What is going on here?”
Guns raised they looked at him, their armor scratched and burned in places but Les couldn't figure out why. Two of them looked similar, the other was in complete black with bones on his armor. Where his face mask or helmet would be, was a skull with red glowing eyes.
“You're able to speak but your comrade wasn't, you weren't exposed to the changer were you?”
“Changer? What do you-” A scream made them all turn towards it. Les started to run and the voices said to stop but he wouldn't. Seah was in trouble.
…
Outside the air was full and cool. The dark men had made it out before him and were poised ready to attack it looked. When Les looked down noticing what was down from the ledge he was on, and was mortified.
Three of the dark men were on the ground, massacred, their blood coating several of the tanks. Organs ripped apart and armor strewn about. One appeared to be flattened by some unknown source. Seah stood floating in a perpetual sea of miasma, eyes rolled back and body convulsing. Standing upright she grabbed the massive hand of one of the dark men and started to write symbols on the wall. The dark men at Les's side began firing at her but their bullets never reached their target, like they were derailing. The symbols began to glow as she was chanting and suddenly the miasma rushed at it and washed over it creating a portal from which Aron fell out of. She looked up at Les as he rose up from the ground and kneeled before her in some form of adoration. Les didn't even know who or how but he knew he had been betrayed. She spoke, her words ungarbled, deep and low.
“These years are always so tough on young ones, aren't they?”
“Silence heretical mutant. Release the girl in the name of the emperor, her soul is not yours, she belongs to the god emperor as one of his chosen.”
Seah, or the mutant, as they called her laughed. “She is us now, and the dark prince wants what he wants of us.”
Aron stood up and looked at Seah. Shouting over the drone of the miasmatic energy. “I did as you asked, I lured him here, you've experienced your 'sensations.'” He threw up his hands and gestured.
Seah looked at him and with a gesture, threw him at a storage container sending white yellow powder onto the marines and Les, his body crushed into bits of gore upon impact.
The dark men opened fire at her, she threw her head back and laughed grabbing with her hand at a marine and squeezing. His armor buckling under invisible shapes constricting him until after a series of pops and whines from his armor, his flesh gave out.
The skull masked man jumped from the ledge. Les never noticed the hammer in his hand. It was of the Aquila, a symbol of the Imperium. It now cackled with lightning bolts crawling across it. Seah grabbed the second and threw him at the skull masked one. The impact gave a resounding crash that was earth-shattering. The skull faced one laid on the ground and the other hung in the air, her toy, subject to her will. Les cried out to her so she would stop and as she was winding back to throw him, she snapped back into herself, the miasma disappearing temporarily. She looked at him in shock at the scene she had woken into.
A roar was sounded and the skull mask threw himself at her in a tackle that would level a bull and a shrill laugh sounded out. The skull mask was thrown back. The mutant had possessed her once again. Making the grabbing gesture again, she reached for storage container. The massive steel enclosure, even empty, was considerable in weight. It hung in the air, spinning slightly as skull mask writhed on the ground gaining his balance and getting to his feet.
“Seah!” Les called out.
She looked at him again with the same doe eyes as before as the container started to fall. As it crashed into the ground it flew up again and was thrown into one of the buildings with a flash of blinding light. Les ran down to survey what happened and where Seah was when it fell.
He found the skull faced man. Half of him was crushed and he looked like he was coughing in his armor. Grabbing at it, he flung his helmet off. Les wasn't too surprised that it had human-skin, he didn't know what to expect. He grabbed at his chest and pulled a string of beads and held his hands out to Les.
“Suffer not the witch to live.”
Les took the beads from his gauntleted hand as it fell lifeless to the ground. He looked in his palm and there was the Aquila, on a string of black obsidian beads.
He could hear Seah weeping at having been woken up again. A crater formed in the ground where the crate had fallen and was supposed to crush her but the miasma eruption had most likely cushioned the impact. He went to her kneeling down he tried to catch her eye but she bent backwards suddenly, her body contorting into odd shapes. He screamed in anger and frustration. He wanted her back but she was too far gone. She stopped and her head snapped looking straight at him, she reached for the skull man's hammer and sent it flying towards Les. He ducked as it landed at his feet. He grabbed it hefting it with both hands and looking puzzled at her.
She mouthed 'please' and looked at him with such sorrow and pain that he knew what he had to do because he was the only thing standing between the mutant and the entire colony. He hefted the hammer into the air and despite the intense onslaught of miasmic flames and thunder, the prayer beads lambency just shone brighter. As her body fell, he did too, collapsing onto his knees he bawled openly not knowing what had happened, he only knew that he had been betrayed.
The third dark man stood up. His armor badly cracked. Blood leaking from between plates. He towered over Les.
Looking up, Les didn't know if he was staring at his own death but didn't flinch when the armored figure offered his hand. Les grabbed at the beads and the armored figure shook his head as he was about to take them off.
“Your hand, Get up.”
Les took the armored figure's hand and stood up, hefting the hammer still. “Did he give you the rosarius and crozius?” Les nodded and the figure looked over at the structure.
The figure pointed and they both started walking towards the structure.
…
Gil had to take it all in. Les didn't need to know that the neophyte had left behind his home world as well as the ones he loved. Whether he was recruited by trial or act of bravery, he was once a man but is now a member of the adeptus aestartes. A protector of man, his duty to serve the imperium and to defend those that live within it.
“Did the psyker even know what was happening to her?” Gil asked.
“It depends on how far into the mutation she may have been in, but I'm contempt with not knowing.” Les said staring out the window.
“The structure, that was a Templar fortress right?” Gil was relentless with his questions. “Yes, it had been sealed and left until it would be needed again, the witches' psychic emissions caused an emergency beacon to activate and a strike cruiser was in a neighboring system happened to answer the call when an alarm had been triggered” He leaned forward. “The witch was searching for something.”
“Did she find it?” Gil looked stern. “No, but an agent of Slaanesh can never be relied upon, especially one as powerful enough to spawn a changer of ways and throne knows what, at will.”
The Thunderhawk landed on the barge and the two started to depart as Gil said “that doesn't explain the iron breaker” Gil said with a smirk. “That's another story, I have reports to make and you need to get your chain rebound.”
“Do you think that daemon will return? The one that possessed her?” Gil looked at him unblinking.
“Even if it does, the Templar’s will always be around to fight it, I only hope I find it first.”