This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
The interior of the cathedral was surrounded in a blanket of darkness and shadows. The ceilings were high ranging, lofty and appeared to touch the heavens, which were held up by magnificent old oak wooden beams going across the walls to arch into the great grey granite pillars. Thrusting out of the stone ground, giving a magnificent strong appearance to the structure, it was a majestic sight to the eye.
In each corner were white marble pillars, two rising up to the lofty ceiling, around them and spiralling upwards were carved ivory into the marble. Sat atop of each pillar were carvings of white angels, all kneeling with splendorous wings arching around them, almost encasing them, as if the angels where mourning. They had their heads dipped down and in each hand, clasped before them, were the hilts of swords, laid out in front of them.
The windows were coloured pieces of glass put together to form angels, the rays of what little light there was shone through them in long beams of yellow down to the marble floors. Dust could be seen dancing through the air, silently, almost motionless.
To break the serenity of this scene, hung in chains around the calves and chest were the human remains - what was left of them. They had been stripped of all their skin. All were unrecognisable, their innards coming out and dripping blood from every inch. A brutal and torturous act from the Night Lords, now left for all to see as mere trophies.
From the far exits stood two Night Lord Chaos Space Marines, motionless and poised ready for any intruder, clenching their bolters. They were unmoving, yet their eyes seemed be looking everywhere.
Forward of them were rows and rows of benches made of black volcanic rock - shiny yet dull, rather plain in appearance yet a spectacle to look on none the less - all leading up to the lectern at the head of the cathedral.
Stood at the stand, reading the preacher's book of ancient knowledge, was Lord Cravex of the Night Lords. Adorned in dark blue ceramite armour with a metallic glow, almost looking black in places from the dark shadows, lightening was pasted down his leg armour with a slight metallic glow. His skin was whiter than white, almost as white and hard looking as the marble angels faces. His eyes were black, like two black beads where a mans eyes would be, yet shinning with a depth that could go on for an eternity. His teeth where long, pointy, razor sharp, looking needles, and badly stained dark red. On occasion his long and pronged fork tongue would lick his lips.
Upon his chest he boasted a bone coloured skull with giant bat wings sprouting from each side, it looked rather too majestic for an individual of his calibre. Hung loosely across his large, arrogant chest were his rusty chains attached to one long diagonal chain across his chest, they vanished in swaggers around his back. He wore them around his waist also, and they hung down over one leg like a curtain. Upon his back he carried a large demonic sword, sheathed and covered by one huge and impressive murky grey, giant rat fur cloak, joined at the front of his chest by the front paws, clenched together with a blood stained ruby red clasp. Upon his shoulder he wore a carved face, screeching out in fear, whilst his other carried the Night Lords' symbol.
Stood by his side was Pertude, attired in all black, an unusual black. Adorned about him he wore a long, black, heavy cloak, thick and not worn, yet old in places. He had, adorning his head, a skull cap of black with two prongs braised at either side. Half way up they branched off and curved inwards.
Lexor entered the cathedral hall, walking with a strong purpose to his stance, stopping abruptly before Cravex, who looked up at him from his book.
"My lord, Space Marines have entered the city."
"Have the raptors disembark from the thunderhawks?" came the calm response. Lexor stepped back slightly.
"My lord, I would, if not for the fact they have all been slaughtered by the Space Marines," he said, lowering his tone. Cravex looked like he was about to shoot the messenger.
"So, the Salamanders have returned."
"No, my lord, another chapter," Lexor answered.
Cravex turned his full attention to him. "How many?"
Again Lexor stepped back. "I cannot answer that," he paused, before resuming. "Am I to hunt them down?"
"No," came the steadfast reply.
"May I ask why?"
Cravex replaced the book he was reading back on the lectern, face open. "Because they will come to us," he responded.
It was this moment that Pertude stepped closer to Cravex, holding his motion, gripping his fingers tightly around his psychic staff. He tilted his head at Cravex's ear to speak. "Perhaps we should take our leave of this city and advance across the bridge to slaughter all opposition before it grows in numbers," he saidm with an almost silent pitch to his tone.
Cravex slowly turned his head to gaze upon Pertude
"What opposition? A mere handful of Imperial Guards? What match will they be to me; I personally took this city from the Salamanders and five hundred of those Imperial Guards," Cravex said, raising his tone to echo through the hall. "We will take our leave of this place when I decide," he finished, his tone still raised.
Pertude moved closer to Cravex motionlessly, as if gliding. "Do you forget that if we are to follow Abaddon's plan then the sooner we leave this place, the sooner we can meet up with the Word Bearers and double in numbers. If we stay here we will become vulnerable."
Cravex turned his full attention to Pertude, who backed off slightly.
"You are over confident. This will be your downfall unless you keep with Abaddon's plan. Remember, you pledged your allegiance to follow Abaddon's banner. Surely you dare not doubt Abaddon the Despoiler," Pertude said, directing the words at Cravex with a daring, raised tone.
Cravex danced his fingers over his holstered plasma pistol, until now hidden under the chains and asked: "Just remind me again, why you are here?"
Pertude stepped back with caution from the angered manner in Cravex's tone, his eyes fixed on Cravex's hand movements.
"Abaddon wishes it," he replied.
"I will not be taunted by your poisoned tongue, nor will I be spied upon by my so-called ally. So I ask you one last time, why you are here?"
Cravex gripped the handle of his holstered plasma pistol. Pertude stepped back further and gripped his psychic staff ever more tightly.
"Because Abaddon requests my presence at your side to merely assist you."
Cravex drew his plasma pistol swiftly from its holster and pointed it directly at Pertude's glaring face. Without warning, Cravex clenched his finger over the trigger, releasing a beam of hot plasma. The beam smashed into Pertude's face, killing him instantly.
"Wrong answer."
Pertude's lifeless body fell back on to the stone and marble floor, his face all melted and charred, with the lingering smell of burnt meat from the smoke now rising.Cravex's glare told Lexor not to ask anymore questions.
"Remove this scum from my sight."
Lexor bowed then gave a hand gesture to the guards that stood by the door that he'd entered through. Both came over and each took a firm hold of one of Pertude's still warm hands and began dragging him out. Cravex re-holstered his smoking plasma pistol.
Korde and his squad had finally reached the end of their journey to the gates outside the cathedral. They glanced out over the cemetery, their colours were almost invisible to the backdrop of darkness. Phanus peered past the locked gates and past the gravestones. They were carved from every stone known to man, some new, some covered in moss and ivy, others decaying, cracked or even with bolter blasts smashed into them. Not even a holy place was sacred in death.
Phanus could see the cathedral entrance with two Night Lords on sentry duty, clenching heavy stubbers. Korde stepped over to him, looking for himself, to survey the area. It was heavy with old, gnarled trees, their boughs and leaves rustling and creaking in the almost silent breeze that crept upon them.
The main ground approaching the entrance was covered with a mass of gravestones. The closer they got to the entrance doors, the more unkempt they were; ivy, weather and intervention had caused some to vanish, sink, slump, or fall completely over.
Above the two large wood stained entrance doors was a clock tower, dominant and strong in its height. A Night Lord armed with a plasma gun overlooked the cemetery from inside; he would be an inconvenience when their first goal, the main entrance.
"OK, brothers, we know that once we crack the lock on this gate they will be alerted to our presence. But what they don't realise is that they out number us. Greatly."
"So what's the plan?" Phanus interrupted.
Korde glanced at Phanus with a rather annoyed expression fixed on his face.
"As I was saying, we will hide this fact by branching into five squads of two. We shall use grave markers as our cover." came back Korde, still surveying the Night Lord and some others, barely in sight on the cathedral roof.
Judson slowly advanced towards Korde, cocking his bolter for action. "Sarge, some back up may be an advantage."
Korde glanced into the reds of his helmet's eye viewers, gripping the communicator strapped to his belt. He held it up to his mouth.
"Captain."
No response was returned to him.
"Captain…"
Again no response.
Frieh closed in to Korde "Perhaps that explosion was the death of our Captain," he said.
"Maybe," replied Korde.
"Do you still want to take the cathedral?" Frieh added.
"If on the chance Captain Syakotus is dead, then I am in command and I say we follow his last orders. He is, or was, our Captain, therefore it is our duty to obey his orders," Korde explained.
Korde put the comm to his mouth again. "Gevedin."
The com crackled slightly.
"Gevedin here. That you, Korde?" Came Gevedin's response.
"What's your situation?" Korde asked.
"No resistance what so ever."
"Good, we need your help at the cemetery. I'm not sure where Captain Syakotus is or if he's even alive. All contact with him has been lost. My squad and I are at the cathedral's gates but from the look of this place we are greatly out numbered."
"What do you need from me, Korde?"
"Can you mount your men in the Rhinos and give us some assistance in taking this place out?" Korde asked.
"Consider it done, old friend. Start your attack, we should be with you shortly," Gevedin finished.
"Thank you," finished Korde, replacing his comm back on his waist.
"Frieh, open the gates," ordered Korde.
Unhooking his knife from his waist, Frieh jolted it into the lock sealing the tall gothic designed gates. He slowly wedged the blade through the key hole of the lock and twisted it about for around two minutes.
With a clang that rocked the gate, causing an echo across the cemetery, the lock broke, snapping the blade off the knife handle and dropping to the ground. Judson eased his shoulder gently against the tall gates, pushing them open, clenching his fingers around his bolter's handle. Korde slid past him, holding his combi with both hands.
"We're in. Remember, stick to the plan."
Hive World Terra