Capítulo 8: Chapter Eight: Thunder from Below
Terra's atmosphere had been ravaged, repaired, and ravaged again throughout the Millennia. Yet even the polluted irradiated sky of the Age of Strife possessed the ability to create a particular phenomenon that had frightened and enchanted Humans for as long as the species has existed: Thunderstorms.
One of these storms raged over The Caucasus Wastes of Terra. Bolts of lightning crashed against the nation-sized forcefield that sheltered the domain of the Ethnarchy. Countless armies both Imperial and otherwise had been broken trying to crack open the Hollow Mountains of the Ethnarch. Yet the Imperium of Man would not be dissuaded and now the full might of the greatest power on Terra was arrayed against the Ethnarchy.
It was at this precipice of war that Arik Taranis and the last of the Thunder Legions arrived. Exiting his transport Arik looked to the sky just as a blast of lightning illuminated the night sky.
"How perfectly proper" the Ancient Thunder Warrior quietly mused as literal lighting bolts of unification erupted overhead the last obstacle for Terran unity. Gesturing to his command squad to follow him Taranis headed towards the command bunker at the center of the impromptu base. Bracing himself psychologically the Gene-Wrought Giant prepared to meet with his Creator and Liege. Despite hundreds, if not thousands of meetings with the Emperor first contact still rattled the old warrior. The Emperor did not disappoint and the sheer mental impact of his presence was enough to throw the jaded warriors off-kilter for a moment.
Arik recovered from the bombardment of stimuli first and was the first to kneel before the Emperor of Mankind, who stood before a hololithic table discussing strategy and plans with his various generals. It has been months since the Emperor had served on the frontlines worrisome rumors had begun to sprout about his disappearance. Looking up from the display the Emperor acknowledged the Thunder Warriors, allowing them to stand.
Moving to speak with his Champion among the Thunder Legions the Emperor saw glimpses of a possible future as he looked into the face of Taranis.
*The Thunder Warriors butchering thousands easily on the fields of Franc till the ground had turned into a lake of blood.*
*Psychotic rage leaving the faces of the survivors of Mount Ararat as they realized there time had come*
*A handful of the tortured broken warriors scattered to the wind as there bodies and minds fractured under their own might*
*Sons of Traitors encountering the Lighting Bearer deep within Terra, his body and face a mass of scars and cancerous lesions. Ruined armor clinging to his titanic bulk as he sat upon a throne of scrap ruling over a kingdom of filth*
Placing his hand upon Arik Taranis's shoulder the Emperor spoke softly to his rapidly breaking prototype: "The time has come Arik. The time for the final war of the Thunder Legions." The somber sadness that marred the Emperor's perfect visage surprised Arik more than the knowledge that came with it. He had expected a brutal cull or being locked away and rot. Not in a simple yet cruelly kind opportunity to do what they had been built for.
Taranis knew his death was coming for a long time. He had expected this order ever since the first of his sons had died from his own body ripping itself apart. Every time a Thunder Warrior lost any semblance of sanity and butchered allies and civilians or when an Apothecary opened up an ailing Warrior and found his body to be naught but a mess of tumors. The Emperor's blade edged closer to the necks of himself and his soldiers.
The saga of the Thunder Legions was ending and The age of strife was at its close. They had been built to usher out that era of insanity and barbarism yet they were as much part of it as the countless monsters and madman that they had battled. Now they would do their duty and crush the last shadow of ancient horrors dwelling within humanities cradle.
Mission data and tactical assessments poured from the generals and strategists of the Emperor's inner circle into the Thunder Legion Officers as did new equipment born of both Terrawat and Martian technology into the hands of there soldiers. They were to burrow beneath the surface of Terra to reach the mythical source of the Ethnarchies power: The Tempest Galleries
Millions of Soldiers kept up the offensive on the barrier, artillery rained day and night in a nonstop barrage designed not just to simply weaken the void shield but distract the defenders from the true assault. Armored in upgraded power armor and wielding a menagerie of powerful weapons the Thunder Legions were ready to strike. 25,000 Warriors, The last five Stormhosts had been assembled under Arik Taranis and were ready to bring the Emperor's wrath upon any and all who would stand against them.
There transports to the subterranean Tempest Galleries were reverse-engineered Martian vehicles called Termites. Massive burrowing ships built to survive the most punishing environments in the known universe. Ghota, Taranis's second: looked skeptically at the collection of vessels all primed to pierce Terra's crust and let out a sound that was a mix of a growl and a groan. Over a secure vox with his Commander, he expressed his concern.
"Sir, you know as well as I do that at least a tenth of our forces is teetering on the brink. Is there any other option than cramming us into those half-finished rust buckets and hoping half our army does not go insane or literally rip itself apart?" Barely reacting to his Equerry's worries Arik simply said "There are contingencies in place"
Hoping he was not bluffing Ghota shrugged his shoulders and took his place in one of the Restraint mounts within the lead Termite. The old Thunder Warrior noted that the design of the seats seemed similar to various dropships and grimaced at the irony of a Thunder Warrior: Storm Incarnate, Conqueror of the Heavens and master of the Deep Strike meeting his end below the world's surface in some bizarre parody of a tactical insertion.
Buckling in and plugging his armor into the surrounding machinery, Ghota's eyes suddenly felt heavy, looking around frantically he saw his Battle-Brothers slumping into there restraints one after another and he could feel his mind fading. Swearing in countless Terran tongues he frantically tried to break free. Looking up to where he had last seen Taranis. Ghota saw the legendary warrior sitting casually and unaffected, watching his sons passing out. Realization dawned upon Ghota, this was the contingency. With those final thoughts, he passed out.
:Thirteen Hours Later and 37 Kilometers beneath Terras Surface:
Ghota awoke to screaming alarms and the deep thudding of Bolter-fire. As he groggily struggled out of his restraints three things hit him at once. First, even with his armors climate systems, he felt as if he was boiling alive. Second, a drug cocktail had been added to his usual pre-battle enhancers that knocked him and his Battle-Brothers out. Thirdly data feeds and tactical information was streaming into his helmet.
Freeing himself he scanned his surroundings, He was the first to awaken in his termite. The rest of the First Five Retinues were steadily awakening. Yet Arik Taranis and his Praetorian Squad were missing. Confused and Disoriented Ghota begin to absorb the data pouring into his helm. Of the 50 termites that had been deployed seven had been lost on the descent, either to environmental stress or defense measures.
The Termites each carried 500 Thunder Warriors and had surfaced seemingly at random into the Tempest Galleries Lower Depths. They were at the border between the planet's crust and mantle.
Orders then came to Ghota telling him to rally the Retinue Squads around him and advance to a location approximately 5 klicks from there location. Settling into the mindset of a commander Ghota began to rally and rouse the various Thunder Warriors. Five squads of humanity's finest warriors were prepped and prepared to exit their craft into whatever hell awaited them.
Even though the Termites hull built to withstand swimming in seas of lava they could hear the noises of battle. Weapon Fire, tearing metal, and near-constant explosions. Unsealing the Blast-Ports the Thunder Warriors exited the Craft roaring with the fury of the Emperor made manifest.
Their termite had punctured the cavern floor and the Blast-Ports allowed them to clamber down upon the obsidian chamber. The realm they had arrived in was a truly insane esoteric domain that brought to mind classical images of Hell from Old Earth religions.
Lava poured out of the chamber floor and flowed upwards in a parody of a waterfall. Great rivers of molten metal floated above them, suspended and manipulated by colossal electromagnetic Spindles. Bolts of lighting and billowing clouds of energized atmosphere formed a colossal storm, a never-ending Hellish Tempest for which the Caverns were named for.
Yet the sight that caught the eyes of the Thunder Warriors most was the battle being waged across the titanic cavern. Thousands of Warriors battled swarms of horrific arachnoid machines. They outclassed the Thunder Warriors in both size and numbers. Ghota looked on in shock as volleys of Plasma, Melta and Volkite rounds had basically no effect upon the Machines as they charged into the Thunder Warrior lines and butchered them with brutal mining implements.
In Response, a squad of Thunder Warrior wielding thunder hammers smashed into the offending machines. With superhuman blows that were comparable to artillery strikes, the Retributors pushed back the machines all while letting out psychotic roars of fury.
Ghotas troops all moved to join the battle but they had orders elsewhere. Barking orders Ghota managed to lead his squadron away from the fight towards there rendezvous point. Looking back he watched more and more of the battling Thunder Warriors break either physically or mentally from the stress of battle. Some dropped there weapons and charged ferally into battle while others simply slumped over mid-fight.
The Thunder Warriors ducked into a smaller capillary tunnel that Grav-Scans indicated would lead them towards the center of the Galleries. The new armor helped them navigate the polished tunnel that had been bored out of the earth with molten steel. Despite there attempts to be subtle they met resistance. A small patrol swarm of Tempest-Machines attacked. Ghota brought his Thunder Hammer and Storm Shield to bear while barking orders to his Battle-Brothers: "Solid projectiles only, aim for the joints. Paladins with me! Justicars cover us!"
Ghota roared with transhuman fury as he smashed into the first line of the Tempest Machines. His fellow Thunder Warriors followed suit with Chain-Weapons, Power-Axes, and Thunder Hammers. Blow after blow rained down on the Machines, shattering there hardy internal components and buckling exoskeletons designed to swim in lava.
Some machines tried to climb along the tunnel walls to pincer the Paladins but the Justicars reigned death with Penetrator Bolt-Rounds preventing any such attempts to buckle the front line of warriors. Unlike the ailing berserkers in the main cavern, these squads were composed of the elite of the Thunder Legions. Warriors who had faced the worst horrors of the Age of Strife and won.
Yet even these elites could feel their bodies wearing under the stress of battle. Ghota thought to himself as he barely dodged a Machines mono-molecular appendage blade "This used to be so much easier"
After the brief firefight concluded the Thunder Warriors advanced. They had lost five warriors, their gear had been salvaged and they had been given Honored Deaths. Marching forward they stormed the tunnels. Eventually, after a few hours of navigating the volcanic Labrinth and tunnel skirmishes, they reached their destination.
A grand chamber carved from Adamantium and inlaid with Obsidian stood before them. Ten tunnels lead into the chamber each turning into a silicate bridge that was suspended over a pool of molten metal that served as the chamber's floor. Ghota cautiously led his Battle-Brothers towards the center of the chamber where the ten bridges intersected. As they neared it a deep rumbling growl echoed throughout the Chamber.
In an explosion of Lava and lighting something colossal breached the Pools surface. Easily the size of a Titan. Black-Diamond scales shimmered and its mechanical maw opened letting forth a horrific roar. Deep within the bowels of the Old Earth, they had encountered a machine built to emulate the archetypal monster: The Dragon.
As one the Thunder Warriors leveled their weapons and open fire on the Wyrm. The Machine returned the favor with blasts of superheated plasma and metal that atomotized any Warrior unlucky enough to be hit. It's serpentine body wrapped around one of the bridges seeking to crush the scattering Warriors. Ghota bellowed commands as he internally cursed himself. He had followed the orders to leave the breaking and broken Warriors to there doom so they would act as a distraction while they headed to the inner core of the Galleries. Why had they been brought into this Trap?
Suddenly a war-cry comparable in both volume and fury to the Dragons roar pierced the Chamber. Arriving from the opposite tunnel Arik Taranis: the Throne Slayer alongside his Praetorians had arrived. With a Paragon-Blade handcrafted by the Emperor himself in one hand and a Thunder Hammer in the other Taranis leaped at the beast. Moving with speed and skill unrivaled except for Valdor and the Emperor himself Taranis Jumped off the bridge onto the Dragon.
Using his Blade as a parody of a Climbing-Spike he scrambled up the Machines side, leaving deep gouges in its exoskeleton as he went. The Lord of the Thunder Warriors shouted over the Vox for his forces to open fire at the Machines sensors. Obliging their Commanders will. Ghota and the Praetorians emptied countless rounds into the Wyrm's eyes and face. In response it attacked more violently, pulverizing entire squads of Thunder Warriors with a single lash of its tail.
Undeterred Arik Taranis proved his mettle as Champion of the Emperor by reaching the Machines head. Slashing its left sensors and leaving his blade stuck within its glassen eye he propelled himself to stand between the creature's horns. Roaring with the fury of a Storm-God he brought the Thunder Hammer down upon the beasts mechanical skull.
With a blow that would have shattered a mountain-range, he split open the Volcanic Dragons skull. Imploding its Silicon-based brain and shattering most of its internal machinery. The Chamber shook with the blow and cracks spread across the Adamantium walls. Leading out a death howl the Dragon began to slump over. Arik Taranis dislodged his Sword from the monster's corpse and rode its collapse onto one of the bridges.
Stepping off the corpse onto the Bridges without making even note of the impossible feat he had just done Arik Taranis checked his Helms display and lead his Sons out of the Dragons Lair, and into the Inner Sanctum of the Master of the Galleries.
Ghota caught up with his Commander and simply asked "This is it isn't it? The Final Mission?" Instead of responding Arik turned to the 300 or so remaining Thunder-Warriors and spoke:
"My Sons, we have long known our end was nigh. We have served the Emperor valiantly in the quest for unification but we were not built to conquer the Stars nor protect humanity as its finest soldiers. Nay, we were forged to destroy and crush the worst of the Old Night as Warriors! We are dying, all of us and our Emperor has given us an opportunity. The Opportunity to not go out as deceased weaklings, but as Warriors!"
This truth dawned on them and as one the last of the Thunder Legions roared in triumph and celebration. Together they marched into the center of the Tempest galleries. The Dragon had been the last line of defense for there foe, now a simple pair of Adamantium-Alloy doors stood before them. Arik turned to his advisor and Equerry and said: "Ghota, would you do the honors?" A deep animal grim split Ghotas face as replied "gladly sir" He charged the doors and with all his might he smashed them open with a titanic blow of his Thunder-Hammer.
Before them stood a titanic Machine. An Abominable Intelligence that screamed in binary for its guardians and caretakers to return to it. Arik has slain numerous such monsters throughout the unification wars and he knew the simplest way to. Casually as if he was tossing an empty nutrient canister into disposal he lobbed a collection of Vortex Grenades into the Chamber.
The Warp opened up and swallowed the colossal machine. With the maestro of the Galleries gone they started to collapse almost instantly. Machines that had functioned perfectly for millennia ground to a stop and started to buckle. Service and Defense Machines stopped mid-movement and collapsed like puppets with there strings cut.
As soon as they had confirmed the A.I.'s destruction the Thunder Warriors began there retreat. Entire Chambers began to collapse around them as more and more of the ancient complex buckled under the fury of Terra's core. They moved with superhuman speed, back towards the termites. Giving honorable deaths to the wounded so they would not slow them down.
At last, they reached one of the operational vehicles and the Thunder Warriors entered there only escape. Frantically they tried to start the damaged machine and after a few horrifying seconds where the chamber began to buckle around them. The Cogitator responded. Using pre-programmed orders the Termites automatically burrowed out of the chamber and headed for the surface.
Once they seemed well on their way and the horrors and insanity of the Tempest galleries were kilometers behind them Ghota sat beside Arik and asked: "Where were you when I awoke?" Removing his helmet the ancient warrior looked at his second with tired eyes as he spoke: "I needed to make arrangements, Those who were already falling apart needed to be put down less they endanger us all and those who were closest to the brink needed to be arranged so even if they went mad during the battle they would do their duty."
Looking out at the Thunder Warriors surrounding him he continued "Even the selected few to carry out the mission are at risk. Keep an eye out on the trip home Ghota, we are not safe yet." The Thunder Warriors removed their armor and began to socialize. Telling stories and comparing records of battles and tales. Hours ticked by and for a tragically brief period of time the Warriors enjoyed the camaraderie and companionship afforded only too brothers in arms.
Sadly such solace was not to last. Tragedy struck when Decimator Baktash begins to tell a story of how he had been part of the frontline charge with Gardus Steelsoul against the Cyber-Thralls of the Droog-Lord. "There we were, all Five thousand of us against the rotten bastards when...when...when" Baktash's eyes glazed over and for a split second the sheer weight of the horrors he had seen and perpetrated crashed into his decaying mind. He let loose a pained howl and lept at one of his brothers.
Baktash sunk his fingers into the eyes of one of his closest comrades and bit open the main artery of his squad's officer before he was put down. Within the relatively cramped chamber, the stink of blood and battle-hormones was thick. A painful silence filled the Termite before another Thunder Warrior began to shake with hallucinations of long distant foes. He was put down almost instantly and the smell of blood and sight of the dead began to worm its way into the minds of the Thunder Warriors.
For another hour tense silence and fear cast a pall over the surviving Thunder Warriors. The quiet was broken by the ugly sound of breaking bones. A Warrior fell to his knee as his left tibia and fibula shattered funder the power of his own tensed muscle. That proved to be the final straw.
Carnage erupted as half-mad berserkers lept at their brothers who could feel the same madness creeping into their minds as they fought off there deranged former friends and Battle-Brothers. Arik and Ghota were back to back as veterans of the Unification Wars butchered each other in a wholesale slaughter brought on by disease and trauma.
It was a gruesome melee, there weapons and armor were locked away so the battle was conducted with hands, feet, and teeth. Ghota screamed with futile rage as he crushed one of his Squad Mates skulls all while impotently begging him to regain some semblance of sanity. Arik kept calm simply saying over and over "this would be a good death" as he slaughtered his Sons. Yet after nearly an hour of feral combat, all that was left in the Termite alive was Arik covered head to toe in his Gene-Sons blood and a wounded Ghota slumped against the wall. Speaking more to himself than Ghota or the corpse that pooled around them Arik softly said "But not good enough"
Ghota patched himself up with the medical supplies available and watched Arik carefully. After a bit, Ghota asked, "Why am I still alive." He had watched the carnage and madness overtake his Brothers but it had not claimed him. Shrugging his soldiers Taranis responded: "Luck of the draw, one in a billion odds of being especially compatible with the Augments."
Ghota had never inquired much about his Commander's past and history, that was not his duty but he decided there was nothing to lose and asked. "So you're like me a one in a billion?" Looking back at Ghota Arik wore as quizzical look. "I figured you were smarter than that and would have figured it out in all these long years." In a display of sudden surprising rage, he ripped off his breastplate to show Ghota the mark tattooed over his heart. It was barely visible beneath the pattern of scars on his chest. It was the Gothic Numeral for Zero within a twin-headed bird of prey.
In a voice that was a mix of anger and strangely pride, Arik spoke of his creation and purpose. "I was crafted by the Emperor himself as the First of the Thunder Legions, and Gene-Sire of them. The prototype for his true-born creations and doomed to die along with my sons' thanks to being an unfinished thing." Throwing his battered plumed helm to the floor the gigantic warrior collapsed next to Ghota and continued. " I was sworn to secrecy, to never tell the fate I knew was mine for I had a duty to do."
Stunned Ghota asked "Then why are you telling me this? If the Emperor himself swore you to secrecy then why?" A Cruel smirk appeared on Arik's lips "Cause Frak him and his scheming manipulative egotistical ways."Ghota was still stunned at the plainly treacherous words and before another word could be said Arik started to laugh. A deep growling noise that seemed impossibly at odds at the scene of blood and carnage surrounding them.
"I have waited literal centuries to say that damn sentence Ghota. CENTURIES! The Emperor of Mankind is an egotistical manipulative control freak who spends lives like currency and subtly controls everything around him. Yet the worst part, the absolute worst part of the Grox-plowing bastard is he is right. What he does is the best damn way forward and he knows it." With those words, Arik Taranis: The Throne Slayer admitted the truth of his Master.
Eight hours later at a Dormant Volcano near Klostzatz, the Termite broke the surface. It was quickly detected by Imperial Scouts who had been waiting for it. The message made its way back to the dying battlefields of the Caucasus Wastes, where the Imperium was finishing off the last remnants of the Ethnarchy. The Emperor had just finished overseeing the transport of the Ethnarch himself to Khangba Marwu when the message arrived.
Flanked by Custodians, Remembrancer and various hangers-on the Emperor arrived at the sight of the surfaced Termite. Soon after they did The main Blast-Port opened up and Twin figures clambered out. Arik with Ghota slung over his shoulder. Slowly they approached the Emperor. A cluster of medics swarmed Ghota looking to patch up the wounded Warrior. Ensuring his Equerry was in good hands Arik Taranis walked up to the Emperor.
Creator and Creation stared at each other for a solid second before Arik struck the Master of Mankind with a punch that would have cracked open a main battle tank. It mildly fazed the Emperor and before even Taranis's transhuman senses could detect twelve guardian spears hovered above his vital spots. To that Arik simply gruffly shouted, "Fine then, do it!"
The Custodes almost obliged before the Emperor stopped them. In a voice filled with somber aloofness, the Emperor spoke to the Ur-Primarch. "No Arik, the Thunder Legions war may be over but you still have a role to play."
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder