The Coming Despair

...and all was quiet save the roar of the massive engines of the dropship...the shakey rattle of ceramite and metal plates as the ancient iron bird broke into the atmosphere...

...was no fear in any of them for the thousand years of war and relentless aggression had set in, for these men, these Marines...these Angels of Death had long since given over to the retribution that was their only providence...

...none spoke, but only waited, carefully checking and rechecking their weapons watching the time pass with the eyes of those that would withstand it...

...thirty Marines in all they would be more than enough to establish the landing zone so that their brothers could mobilize and claim the forgeworld back in the name of their Emporer...their god as it were...

...but not all of them, of course, were believers...

...Captain Albaros took the scene in.  He and his men, the Sanguinary Guard attachment assigned to aid their brothers in securing the dropsite wore their ancient golden armour with a pride that was strangely...different...from those of the other Blood Angels in the dropship.

He strode back and forth amongst the seated members of the landing party, and as he passed nearly each one looked to the floor or at his bolter, rechecking it as duty demanded, unable to hold the gaze of one whom they saw as a superior.  But not all of them avoided his glass green eyes...

...and these he knew to be his true brothers...

"Two minutes to disembark."  There was static in the voice and the dropship calmed itself as the pilots adjusted to flying fully in atmosphere.

"Then there is no time left my brothers.  I hope you are ready."

His four golden clad Guard took their places flanking him and those seated who had held his gaze stood.  The rest looked first at their standing brothers and then at each other.  Without emotion, were there any that would show through his gilded death mask, Captain Albaros calmly lifted his arm, and pointed it toward the cockpit door...

...as the plasma shots tore through them, the two pilots didn't even have time to form words in their minds to describe the feeling of heat and terror that swept through them in their last seconds alive...

...and their brothers in the compartment behind them fared no better as the bolt shots of the traitors tore through their bodies, as the flame of the Guard burned them where they sat...

...and the great iron bird wheeled in the sky only yards above the blackened landscape of the forgeworld as the disembarcation door was blasted open and two dozen Marines, led by five golden angels jumped out the moments before it crashed...

...and the Captain looked to his men, no they were not his, not anyones...they were free men finally after long aeons free again...and perhaps behind the stoic emotionless face of his death mask there was a smile...

...they jogged quickly to cover knowing it wouldn't be long before another dropship was dispatched...there was not another suitable sight on the planet...

...the ship would be counted as destroyed with all hands lost...and so the plan would not change...the plan Albaros himself had lobbied for...

"Captain?"  The emotionless golden mask swung to face the Marine who had addressed him.  The marine stared into those cold green eyes and said:

"They will send twice as many this time.  Do we have enough firepower?"

"No.  But they will also send Brother Zuziel this time...and he, my brother, is all the firepower we shall need."  The Marine nodded and jogged off to secure his position...

...and far above them the most venerable and dangerous Brother Zuziel...the Despair...was awoken from his fitful slumber and his powerclaw roared to life for the first time in years while his autocannons whirred and had he a human face, Brother Zuziel would have smiled as well...

Return of the Scourge

“...wasn't the first one found...no...he was simply the first that refused to kneel...”

“So who was this first you claim as your god heretic?”

“He is no god, nor did he ever aspire to be...he was simply a warrior...a king perhaps and surely a mighty leader of man...but he is no more a god than a servant...”

“Then why is there a temple, abandoned and forgotten though it may be, dedicated to him here?”

“You're a fool, sir, that isn't a temple at all...it's simply a beacon...”

“A beacon to your god?”

“I've already answered that question...”

“Perhaps you haven't answered it to my satisfaction.”

“We are unconcerned with your satisfaction, sir.”

“Who are 'we'?”

“We who have not forgotten him throughout these long dark ages...his sons...and daughters...his brothers...his Legion...”

“Fine. What were you doing at the temple...the beacon...it's off limits on pain of death.”

“Of course it is...”

“So then what were you doing there?”

“I was turning it on of course.”

“Here the transcript of the interrogation ends. Two hours later local star revolution time, a star ship of unknown origin entered the system. Within a standard day the local Planetary Defense Force, along with the Fourth Company of the Emperor’s Scythe was completely destroyed, and all contact with the Imperial Forgeworld Nexial Prime was lost.”

“All contact?”

“No, Inquisitor, Sir, all contact from Imperial Forces.”

“What exactly have we received?”

“Should I read it out loud?”

“Indeed.”

“To the Lion he gave our secrets, and to the Wolf our fangs. To the Angel went our wings and to the Cyborg went our technology. To the Spartan went our strategy and to the Khan our speed. To the Ultras went our gene seed and to the Raven went our stealth. To the Warmaster went our seat and to the Red went our sorcery. We have returned not to conquer nor to destroy needlessly with havoc and chaos.

But return we have, to take back what is rightfully ours...what your so called God Emperor in his fear took from us those long aeons ago.”

“Who sent it?”

“It is marked Claws of the Forgotten...the Doom Hands...”

“What else?”

“The Second Legion...”