Kapitel 28: Chapter Nineteen: The Fall of Luna (Part II)
Location: Command Deck of the Tiber-Prince. Current Flagship of the XVI Legion
Date: 813.M30 (Three Months since the First Legion left Sol for Ceres)
Ezekyle Abaddon had been recruited into the XVI Legion after surviving gene-seed implantation. The genetic material of the XVI Primarch had taken to him phenomenally. Abaddon was stronger, faster, tougher and smarter than virtually any other recruit. He had rocketed to the position of Chapter Master Abbadon XVI-I-II-0-0-Cohort-Alpha. Which in plain gothic meant he lead the second chapter of the first formation.
Now he and the other Legion elite stood aboard the Tiber-Princes command deck. Their Primarch had returned and now the XVI Legion awaited to order to launch. Anticipation crackled between the Astartes, mortals, and Tech-Priests that manned the Bridge. The Great Crusade was about to ignite. Horus Lupercali: The XVI Primarch rose from his command throne at the beckoning of some psionic signal. Raising his Sword up he declared: "The Galaxy will be Mankinds! We the Emperor's Angels of Death will conquer it for our species. This has been decreed by the Master of Mankind and none shall stand in our way! FOR THE EMPEROR AND MANKIND!"
A resounding cheer echoed throughout the ship and its kin as each Primarch gave similar addresses. Master Abaddon along with the other Legion elite raised their fists in triumph. Roaring out: "For the Primarch! For the Emperor! for Mankind!"
The great Warp-Drives of the fleet began to rumble as they ignited. Ready to pierce the fabric of space/time and carry the Imperium to its destiny. All while cheers and cries of celebration echoed. At that moment the fell ritual occurring within Luna completed. Zamora's soul thundered into the Warp. Causing a wave of chaos to ripple through the tides of fate. These waves in the Sea of Souls echoed out, all the way to the Fleet and beyond. Master Abaddon did not know this, he did not know that a taint in his very flesh was keyed into this Warp-wave. What Abaddon did know was a blood-curdling scream filled the bridge, and he was the source of it.
Intense, mind-shattering pain filled Abaddon's mind. It felt like his blood was on fire and his bones had become jagged iron. Daemonic ichor attacked his nerves and seeped into his brain. Where it fed visions of grimdarkness into the Astartes mind.
*A talon that tasted the blood of Gods, Angels, and Daemons upon his right hand.*
*The End of Empires calling out to him, its rightful master.*
*Demi-Gods bound to the Warps masters kneeling before him.*
*Legions, old and new serving his every whim. A weapon of unstoppable conquest and power*
*The very gods themselves dueling for his favor. For he was Warmaster of Chaos!*
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" howled Abaddon. The dark temptations of the Warp wavered as he fought the visions. Even as his flesh twisted and the Gods of Chaos whispered promises of dominion to him Abaddon stood firm. He knew it was lies and evil. Ezekyle Abaddon had been chosen to defend humanity. To be its guardian not its enslaver. Screaming in pain and fury the Man who once was destined to Despoil the Galaxy rejected Chaos utterly. Abaddon would protect his tribe, not matter how large from the Predators in the Dark.
Abaddon's soul dueled the corruption in his flesh. Working with the spiritual and biological augments afforded to the Angels of Death to resist the Dark Masters power. After nearly a minute of this miniature war fought on the psychic and cellular level Abaddon turned the tide. The corruption was pushed back. Self-Control and dominion of self bested Chaos. Driving it out of his body.
With a roar of righteous fury Abaddon the Redeemer, as he would be known from this moment on vomited up the corruption. Leaving a mass of twitching, whispering Daemonic filth on the Bridges deck. With utter disdain he brought his armored boot down on it, crushing the warp-tumor. Spitting up a few more gobbets of blood the Astartes Champion slumped to one knee. His internal organs were ravaged, his muscles frayed and bones chipped. With pained effort, Abaddon pulled himself to his feet and looked around the Bridge.
Every one of his Brothers suffered from the Warp-taint. Some screamed others ripped at their armor and flesh. A few even stood perfectly still, dueling the madness in perfect quietness. Abaddon was the first to break the dark-spell. What he did not know was he was the first Astartes in the entire fleet to free himself. Gritting his teeth and fighting the pain Abaddon stumbled over to his closet brother. A Captain who screamed curses at a "False Emperor." Grabbing the gibbering Astartes by the shoulders Abaddon said the first thing that came into his mind. A phrase buried in his psyche by an encounter with an Old Priest. With utter certainty, he told his suffering gene-kin "The Emperor Protects! And so do we!"
Those words broke through the curse and caused the maddened Astartes to grab Abaddons arms. At that moment the Battle-Brothers held each other and repeated over and over "The Emperor Protects" after a few trembling moments the Captain expelled the taint from himself and slumped over. Abaddon checked his brother's vitals and moved onto the next stricken Astartes. As he did he noticed a few other figures doing similar. Other Battle-Brothers that had freed themselves after him. Abaddon recognized Hastur Sejanus, Iacton Qruze, and Severian De'lupe among their number. Desperately Abaddon looked around for his Genefather. The Primarch was still seated on his command throne. His great gauntlets crushing the thrones armrests. A look of incredible concentration on his face. Psychic electricity lashed out from Horus. Whatever madness tormented the Legion was being battled by their Father.
Abaddon stumbled towards the Primarch, as he did Horus's eyes shot open and locked onto him. They were not the usual kind but strong eyes of the XVI Primarch but molten balls of golden fire. Eyes Abaddon had only seen once before, and would never forget. The Master of Mankind was speaking through his son.
In fact, each of the twenty demigods spoke the same message to their legions. Sent by the Emperor to his Astartes grandchildren. "The Enemy in the Warp attacks, hold strong and believe in yourself. For Humanity and the Imperium!"
The message rippled through the Astartes of the fleet. Some felt its full effect and were freed from the chaotic visions, others felt a whisper in their psyche as the torment continued. Abaddon had rid himself of most of the taint but it infested his very genetics. It gnawed at his organs and lit up his nerves in agony. He paid it little heed as he rallied his brothers. Pulling them from the visions.
Through force of will and bonds of brotherhood the XVI legions elite steadily freed themselves from the Dark Gods grip. Visions that would have driven even the mightiest heroes of humanity to the darkness were resisted. Thanks to the hypnomat techniques developed from Abaddon's childhood encounter with the Last Priest. Along with the soul-links that bound each legionnaire to their Anathema empowered Primarchs almost every Astartes could resist the corruption. Almost every Astartes, not all of them….
Captain Lanartor Voalar could not face the darkness. He was the only one on the Tiber-Prince's bridge to fall. A little more than 2% of all infected Astartes embraced the Four and turned their back on mankind. Volar and the other damned fell not because the rituals of Luna or any omnipotent will of the Gods. They were damned simply because they were weak. In comparison to mortal men, they were invincible and incorruptible. To the standard set by the Master of Mankind, they were found lacking. When evil offered them power in exchange for their species soul the damned gladly accepted. Proving that even superhumans rise to the occasion or fail utterly.
Voalar sold his soul for a chance to walk the Path of Glory. All the arcane energy that was meant to corrupt and mutate the entire Legions was pushed into him and his fellow failures. The psycho-genetic taint the Lunar Cultists had infected the Astartes with should have acted as an anchor. A stain upon their bodies and soul born of the First Daemon Prince's blood. The energy pulled from the Warp Rift and channeled through the occult rituals would then have used the stain to mutate and utterly ruin the Astartes. Turning them into horrors akin to veterans of the God-Emperor's Long War. Those who could resist Chaos's mental attacks were physically damaged by the corruption but not claimed by the Dark Gods. Leaving the massive amount of Warp Energy to fill only a few vessels.
Lesser mortals would have been violated into Chaos Spawn or worse. Yet even these failures of Astartes were Astartes. The ritual energy turned them into avatars of Chaos. Exalted Daemon hosts born to kill. Captain Voalar embraced Chaos and it embraced him. His armor fused to his flesh and became more like a insects armor than ceramite. The jawline that looked so similar to Horus's own was split into a pair of acid-soaked mandibles. Two eyes became four then six. Muscle, bone, and neurons were rewired and glutted with insanity.
In only a few moments the Astartes Captain of the XVI Legion once known as Lanartor Voalar was gone. In his place was a Primarch sized insectoid horror that's very flesh oozed corruption. Sixteen lesser Daemons of each God inhabited the body. Working together in a concert of malice. It's sudden appearance and the waves of revulsion that poured off it stunned even the recovered Astartes on the bridge. A few mortals who had so far resisted the insanity started screaming in horror at the sight.
After getting its bearings the Daemon-Host locked onto its target. Primarch Horus Lupercali, who still sat motionless in the command throne, assisting his father in some great task. Moving at reality bending speeds the Daemon-host charged Horus. Ready to sink its cursed talons into the Demigods flesh. Two Astartes close to the Primarch charged to intercept the creature. Ezekyle Abaddon and Iacton Qruze. The second and sixth Chapter Masters of the First and Fourth formation respectably. The twin battle-brothers. One a battered veteran of Terran and Chthonian wars, the other heir to the XVI Primarch in every sense.
The two Astartes blitzed the Daemon-Host form either side. Crackling Power Swords pierced the beast's sides. It let out a foul screech and swatted at the Battle-Brothers. It was clumsy and savage. Unused to the limitations of the materium. Any full Battle-Brother of the Legio Astartes would have been able to parry the blow. Unfortunately, both Abaddon and Qruze were bruised and bloody. Each barely managed to dance out of claw reach. Nicking their armor and leaving a nasty scar on Abaddon's left cheek.
With each second the Daemon-Host became more accustomed to the Materium. It grew in strength and speed as the already wounded Astartes tired. Still, they fought on, hacking away at muscle and bone. Until the Host struck out with a taloned foot. The blow caught Qruze square in the chest. Launching the Astartes nearly thirty feet into a row of consoles. Iactons chestplate and ribs were pulverized. Luck and the Primarchs genetics stopped the blow from popping his lungs. Coughing up blood and flecks of excised mutation Qruze attempted to rejoin the fight. Blood filling his left lung and nearly every alarm his Power Armor possessed going off in response to his movement dissuaded him. Rapidly losing conscious the Chapter Master swore a bloody oath of vengeance against the Dark forces of the Warp.
Ezekyle Abaddon now stood alone against the Daemon-host. His body and blade ready to break in defense of his Genefather. A wet noise one could interpret as laughter escaped the Hosts mouth. Its arms split into four limbs with a disgusting crack. Then the host's talons fused together into massive envenomed blades. The toxin leaking from the blades was an old favorite of the Dark Gods. It had first been synthesized by the Kinebarch Empire, in their war against the Aeldari. Even with it they had still lost and fell into the Plaguefathers embrace. It was a terrible mixture of material and psionic components created for a singular purpose. To kill gods. It had felled Horus Lupercal and Roboute Guilliman in another universe. Now it was aimed at Abaddon and his Genefathers neck.
The Daemon-Host lashed out at the Astartes with all four bladed limbs. Abaddon was skilled and strong yet could only defend against the onslaught. The flurry of swords seemed everywhere at once. If he blocked one or even two another slipped through his guard and racked his armor. A score of cuts that even his enhanced flesh could not seal steadily covered his body. The first injury he had suffered, the scratch on his cheek still bled, and some part of Abaddon knew it would never heal properly.
Still, he fought on. Hoping to delay the monster just a second longer. The Host tried to sidestep Abaddon and continue to the Primarch, with a howl of rage the Astartes lunged after it. In doing so he fell for its feint. Two blades caught his Power-Sword and the other two rammed into his Lungs. Great jagged edges ripped Abaddons flesh and the Creature picked him by the impaling blades. The Daemon-Host lifted the limp Abaddon above his head and let the Astartes blood dribble into its fiendish maw. Other Astartes who had stood back till now, fearing to interrupt Abaddon's concentration charged now. The Creatures two unoccupied arms batted them away as it fed.
In that moment when all four of the Daemonhosts arms were occupied Abaddon came to life. A pulse of steroids, synth-flesh and combat drugs from his Revitalizer Organ pushed the Astartes wounded biology into overdrive. Abaddon had held tight to his sword even while on the edge of death waiting for this moment. He did not waste it. A crackle of energy was the only warning the monster once known as Captain Lanartor Voalar got. Abaddon the Redeemer stabbed his sword into the meeting of the Hosts neck and shoulder. The sword ripped through armor and into muscle and vein.
Toxic blood splattered Abaddon's armor as he pushed the blade deeper. The Daemon-Host roared and fury and tossed the badly wounded Astartes off its blades. Abaddon landed in a heap of broken bones and armor next to the Command throne. Ezekyle fought against the encroaching darkness with everything he had left. Maintaining consciousness was all he could do. The Host stalked towards Horus as it pulled Abaddon's blade from its body. Two arms lay limp at its side. Daemonic energy worked to reknit muscle and bone but the damage was severe. Foul insectoid laughter echoed from its mandibles. The XVI Primarch was always doomed to be a sacrifice. This reality would be no different. It raised its last two blades high and prepared to strike down Horus Lupercali. Abaddon let out a bloody howl as the blades descended.
Then near instantly the Daemon-host was sent flying backward. Faster than both Astartes and Daemonhost could process Horus had risen from his throne and struck the monster that had once been his son. Wearing intricate alabaster Terminator armor and wielding a great Power-mace the Primarch looked every bit a God of War. Horus charged the Daemonhost. His bolter spitting death and his Mace crackling with esoteric power. Bolt-shells detonated inside the creature as it tried to recover from the first blow. It hissed and spat as its arms uselessly attempted to deflect the earth-shattering blows of Horus's mace.
Roaring with elemental fury the Primarch brought his mace down on the Hosts head. Smashing its skull to pieces. Even with its brain splattered across the deck, it managed to howl a few final curses and taunts in the dark tongue of the Warp. With calm disdain, Horus knocked it to the ground and brought his boot down on the Hosts chest cavity. Turning its organs into a black sludge. Almost as an afterthought Horus whispered a psionic mantra and ignited the Daemonhosts body with pyrokinesis.
Looking over to Abaddon the Primarch approached his son. Placing his great armored hand on the injured lieutenants shoulder he spoke: "You did well my son, I am proud of you"
Psychic energy poured from Primarch to Astartes, healing injuries and purifying the venom. Once Abaddon was in a stable condition Horus walked to the center of the Bridge and proclaimed both verbally and psysically to the broader crew: "The enemies of mankind wish to murder the Imperium in its crib! They do this because they fear us! They fear the righteous fury of humanity resurgent! They shall fail today and the next! For we are the Emperor's chosen and our duty is to mankind! Prepare to counter-attack! The Angels of Death have come!"
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein