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Author Topic: The 2nd Sin - Wrath  (Read 1265 times)

refuse

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The 2nd Sin - Wrath
« on: April 16, 2014, 12:10:43 PM »

The hand was slick with her blood, but still he would not release it. He couldnít let her go. The skin of her arm was covered in blood, as if it had forced its way out through here skin, every pore leaking her life essence. He looked into her eyes; they too had blood flowing out of them. He was lying on his stomach facing her; it was where they had landed after he had tried to catch her. His brain was still trying to process what had happened just moments before.

They had been running for the cover of the building they had been living in. Their foraging trip had been interrupted by another offensive into their city. They had said the armored warriors in blue would bring this war quickly to an end, something he and his sister truly hoped for. But they hadnít been able to accomplish any more then the three imperial guard regiments before them. These new warriors only brought the devastation deeper into the already bomb saturated city. The Salvar had said these new participants in this battle which had lasted all of his life, were Space Marines, supposedly the elite force of the Imperium, something his parents had told him about.

It was these blue space marines that had started shelling the city that morning, a new weapon he had never heard before. This new machine was smaller then giant earth shakers that the imperial guard used during their near continuous shelling, but it saturated the area with deadly fragmentation pellets. These rounds were as deadly to him and his sister as the larger shells, though they did not have the whistling sound warning the larger shells proclaimed themselves with. It was the shelling of this new weapon that had caught them unsurprised while they were foraging.

The incoming rounds had exploded on the outside of the building they had been searching. The Salvar would trade things they found for food, his sister did the negotiating with them. And they were getting low on food, and needed to get trading material. They were digging looking for stairs when the shell hits, the fact that they were both below ground level was what saved them. Their packs had been destroyed, their hearing had disappeared for an hour, which is why they hadnít heard the chatter of boltgun fire as they rushed from cover, running to the shelter of their home, and his sister had caught a bolt in the pelvis. He had turned as the bolt exploded deep in her groin, throwing her torso free from her legs, carrying here towards him. He dived out of instinct to catch her, his hand locking around hers as she flew towards him.

So there he landed, her hand in his, her entrails spreading out from her waist, a fleshy entrails forming a bloody skirt. He lay there looking into her bloody eyes, he didnít move even as the yellow armored marines stepped over him as they marched down the street, advancing on some target, oblivious to the innocents who lay at their feet. He lay there till his hearing returned and the silence replaced the ringing he had grown accustomed to. Silence in this city usually was a frightening thing to him, but now laying there in the life blood of his sister, he welcomed the coming storm. Nothing could be worse now, nothing mattered.

The war had come to their city when he was only three years old, his sister was nine. Their parents had lived in the city, faithful devotees of the Imperium. They worked hard and lived a simple life, one of pious duty to the emperor. But the war came before he knew any of this, his earliest memories were of the shelling, the continuous shelling. Even though he screamed as the shells landed his parents had held him till he faded to sleep, a scream on his lips. His family had held to his fear of the shelling as something to be cherished as unblemished from their previous life. And only when their lives were endangered by his crying, did the shush him to silence.

His crying had lasted to his 9th birthday, when the 3rd Gordan regiment had burst into his familyís house, and dragged his mother off. His father followed them with a lasgun he had found in the city, two days later his mother had returned in shambles, his father never returned. She never spoke of that to him, though he knew his mother had told his sister, because she had told him to be proud of daddy as he had died defending motherís honor, and the Gordans hadnít been able to do anything until they had killed their daddy. Back then he hadnít known what she had been telling him, and he hadnít found out until years after his sisters death.

After his 9th birthday, his mother was taken from their house many times. Each time the outer door was opened, his sister would hide. It was during the year after his father died that his sister had to dress in his fatherís old clothes, like a boy his mother had said. He was half way through is 10th year when the Gordonís left, and he lost his mother. They came for her one more time, if she left with them, or worse, he would never know. After that, he and his sister had been the only family.

During his 12th year, the Salvar had come. They were worse then the two previous regiments that had defended their city. They spent as much time stealing from the populace as they did fighting, anything they wanted they took. And talking to their officers usually saw the officer taking the item. One of the Salvar who had been the first to suggest the two of them bringing interesting things to them, to trade for food, and medicines. His sister had gone in that first day, to negotiate. She had come out hours later, in a state he could only describe as the same state his mother had come home in, those many years ago. She had an armful of food, and would only say that she had negotiated for it.

So it went for two more years, each time they would try to make the food last as long as possible, he knew that his sister dreaded the negotiations. He offered again and again to go, but she said she was the oldest. Many times she would walk out with no food, but still disheveled. He knew something was going on, when over the last few months she wouldnít take the items she had found with her, but she still returned with supplies. But she never said anything, and she continuously kept searching for ArchoTech, a name the Salvar called it.

That was before the bolt round had drilled into her abdomen, and taken her from him. He was still laying there when a hoofed foot landed next to him. He didnít register it; his mind was still on the fleeting edge of insanity. When a hand reached down and pulled him to his feet, he was still holding his sister; she was now drained of color, and stiffened with death. He registered a face, that of a bull, he knew must be looking into the face of the mount. It was when it spoke that he returned to reality with a jolt.

Time had passed, six months to be exact, the yellow armored marines had left, but the war still raged on around him. He knew that it was part of him now, nothing was left of his previous life, and there was only the constant war. His life was one of function only now, his will and desires lost with his sister.

He still collected the archotech the Salvarís wanted, but now he knew the cost of negotiating with them, he learned the price two months after his sisterís death. He had collected up his current stash of items, strapped them to his body, and walked to the headquarters of the Salvar. There he had gained entrance to their command area and pass the spot he use to wait for his sister. Inside were young boys and girls with sacks of trade goods, looking for food. They had the same look his sister had when it had come time to negotiate. He was the only one who looked around; no one would make eye contact with him. Some he knew from his life in the city, others he had never seen before. It was when the door opened and the Salvar came the others reacted, an almost imperceptible step back, not of fear but of resignation. The Salvar looked around, and focused on him, he was first today.

Of that journey to the ďnegotiating roomĒ his mind refused remember, but he had finally learned the cost his mother and sister had paid, the Salvar cared not if the ďnegotiatorĒ was male of female, they wanted their price. The items he brought were extra for them. He had left with an arm full of food, and bile in his mouth. He had almost made it all the way to his home without vomiting, but the vile thoughts surged to the front like some torrid tidal wave rushing out of his consciousness in a stream of putrid memories. His tears held in check by his unwillingness to show fear or weakness, but his retching betrayed his defiant stance. The realization that his mother and sister, and possibly his father had endured this filled him with more horror then the years of shelling he had lived through.

His only thought during their ďnegotiationĒ was of the look of love his sister gave him each time she had left with food, her sacrifice for him had never been revealed, and he love for her grew even deeper. But she was lost to him, and his degradation before the Salvars was his alone to bear. No family to stand proud in front of, no person to know the sacrifice for.

And so it was on the six month anniversary of his sisterís death at the hands of the yellow warriors that they returned. He was starved, he refuse to return for food, better he should die. But the people around him had told him of their return in greater numbers, a force to end the war they said. Though he never knew who they were fighting? The strange beastmen who had lifted him from the ground on the day of his sisterís death? The same beings who had buried his sister along side him? Were those the enemy these yellow armored murders sought to destroy while the Salvar violated the cities population?

And even that wasn't enough, his life had become even more surreal, when for some reason the news that the Salvar were searching for heretics, people who had helped the enemy. The news had traveled through the children of the city as one by one their parents were take away as heretics. The children had formed enclaves to protect themselves from other children who now were terrorizing the city. There were weapons to be found anywhere a child looked, and the power of a las weapon in the hands of a child guaranteed even more death in the war torn city, death even more senseless then the war itself. But he lived alone still, and he seemed to be in a bubble the other children wouldn't violate. So he would hear their cries for their lost parents, or of hunger. The small ones were lucky if they had an older sibling, or another young one looked after them. The ones that had no one would stop crying and never be heard from again. Their fates were sealed when their parents were taken, a final nail for their small coffins.

He was running from building to building when he saw the strange beastmen, the 4th they called themselves. Bahamut Dragonlord was the name of the one who had lifted him that time long ago, and said he was the leader of these strange beast headed men. Bahamut said he was the leader of the vanguard of liberation for the population of this city and the whole planet. He had thought they were part of the yellow armored men, but when he was returned to the ground gently and Bahamut had told his men to prepare a grave for his sister, he knew they were different. They had stood around his sisterís grave and sang a song of morning to ease her passing. And as they left, they had given him food, the same food packets the Salvar had, and they had asked for nothing in return.

And as he approached the beast headed men, he felt a measure of joy again. They looked up at him, and took his measure. And as one approached him he felt a tinge of fear, had he assumed to much, was it hunger that was his joy? But as the towering beastman got closer and he recognized Bahamut, his fears were allayed. The smile was disturbing sight on Bahamutís face, but it was a smile and gladness to see the boy. His beastmen had taken to sharing their food with the children of the city, and he had never come to where the 4th had their distributions. He had been lost in a cloud of despair, and never heard the whispers of food, many hadn't, and many more wouldn't share, keeping their supply safe for themselves. The cities children had become polarized, with many children rising to become saviors and helpers of the small children, and many more becoming evil creatures who stole, killed and worse to the weak. They had created gangs with the weak as their slaves, forcing upon them the same treatment the Salvar had inflicted upon the city. They would send their slaves to the Salvar for food, choosing to allow the Salvar to use their slaves and avoiding their attentions. This he learned from the Bahamut and the other members of the 4th. It seemed they were watching the city, looking for something. They had been in the city the first day it was shelled, and they had been there with each atrocity was committed. They said what they were looking for could only be found at the site of great pain. That is why they had been there when his sister was killed. No, they didn't cause this pain, which was against their orders and would corrupt this thing. Why had the war started, and what were the Salvar and those before them fighting? A rumor was the only answer the 4th could give. There was something in this city the forces of the Emperor wanted gone, but was it worse then the sins the forces of the Emperor had inflicted upon the city with his troops? Bahamut couldn't answer that, he didn't know. He knew what he fought for, and he knew that the Imperium would never allow the people of this city to live if it meant they were out of the control of the Emperor.

So what was this thing and why had he never seen the forces that the Emperor's men fought? Bahamut's answer perplexed him, it was the people of the city who were the enemy, and they had found solace outside the Emperor's grace. They had found something that was alive where the Emperor was dead. What was this thing, this thing that had condemned his sister, his family and the population of the city? That Bahamut would not tell him. He said that he would have to find that answer within himself. With the end of their discussion Bahament gave him food, and water, as much as he could carry, and said no one would bother him to his home.

He awoke the next morning, still hungry, he had not allowed himself to gorge on the food, it would last as long as possible, and this bounty was not going to be wasted by him. And so he went on his normal scouring of the city for tech, just has he had been for years, when he found the largest group of children he had ever seen, they were milling about, nervous, and as he stood there more and more arrived, it seemed the whole of the cities children gatering, and for many they, like him, had no idea why they were there. They stood in what was once the courtyard of the emperor, a massive gathering place for festivals. Surrounded by the offices of the Emperor, the ministrum buildings, and open the other to the grand pass way, where gigantic parades could be held. The children were gathered near the main entrance to the offices, the shelled buildings around them on three sides. The grounds were so massive, their voices drowned out the rumbling engines of the Slavars and yellow armored marine transports made upon driving into the open end. The children near the offices were still unaware as the newly arrived warriors of the Emperor got out of the vehicles and deployed their heavy weapons, aiming them at the children. But some children had seen the new arrivals, and pointed them out to those near them, soon the mass of children were facing the massed firepower of the Imperium, and panic set in. Many of the younger ones dropped to the ground crying, others asked what were they doing. The older ones somehow knew that the end was here, they would go to join their parents soon. The forces of the Imperium had set up outside the range of a simple lasgun, but well within the ranges of their plasmacannons and lascannons. They had come to remove the majority of the remaining inhabitants, but the imperium was a large place, and the rules were to be followed, and so an Orator servitor and two Speaker servators were sent forward to read the charges against them. There would be no trial, the charges carried a death penalty, and there would be no clemency. And so the servitors started announcing their crimes, they were the children of psychers and they themselves may be psykers, a city full of the, some genetic irony, but an outbreak of the worse kind in the eyes of the Imperium. The reading of the charges took ten minutes, and afterwards the servitors fell back, the children had become silent.

And almost as if some signal had been given, the children with weapons charged the line of executioners, a scream upon their throats. For bullies they may have been, it was their time of reckoning. The defenders let them come within effective lasfire range and a wall of lasgun fire reached out and extinguished most of the children. But some, those who were a bit older, old enough to have gone through puberty survived in a myriad of ways. Some still ran with holes in their bodies, others the shots had passed through as though they were only smoke. Others had absorbed the shots and somehow gotten stronger. Those who were still standing continued their run towards the wall of intolerance with renewed energy. The second burst of fire from the wall included the marineís fire, bolters and meltaguns, plasma guns and cannons. This time none of the charging children survived, for many they the first had been a lucky occurrence, for others the vast amount of weaponry overcame them. The silence after the charnel smoke cleared was complete, the children resigned even the youngest seemed to know there was no escape; the Warriors of the Imperium were silent with their resolution that no insult to the emperor would live to see tomorrow.

And deep within the mass of silent children, he heard a voice whisper to him. It promised him the power to strike back, to punish those who had taken his sister from him. The daemon promised he would survive this day and live for many more, if only he would share himself with it. He somehow knew the price it wanted him to pay, something he would gladly pay to avenge his sister, he felt the rage of wrath, the empowerment of the victim. His heart raced and his senses drew the world around him into crisp relief. He had become hyper sensitive to each moment; the time it took a beat of a birdís wing was minutes to him. He saw the front of the lascannons glow, the muzzle flash of the autocannons, and the back blast of the missile launchers, with his life over he screamed "come to me then let us finish this here." And in that instant his latent powers blossomed, the daemon tore apart the warp realm barrier which had bound him, and every living creature within sight of him took a step towards him. His power fully manifest, it surged out again, focusing this time intent on killing him overwhelming their conscious mind and instilling them a need to be near him. The daemon who had been crossing into the real of the material to inhabit his body gave itself to him and instead of possessing the boy, it succumb to him abjection its daemon powers to the boy. The children around him had pressed in close to him, many be crowded in the press. And the energies, bullets and missiles streaked into the crowd of children. The lascannon energies pierced through the distance of the crowd and into the buildings behind, the children didn't possess enough mass to expend the massive lance of energy. The autocannon shells dove through child after child until finally slowing enough to trigger their fuse, detonating inside of children, and blossoming out into the children around them. The missiles were much like the autocannon shells, though they penetrated deeper into the crowd before detonating their fragmentary warheads. The first round of shooting had outright killed sixty five percent of the children; another thirty percent would die within minutes. Those remaining were either unscarred or would survive their injuries, if they lived to see the dawn.

His mind had exploded, he could now see more then mortal eyes could reveal, the daemon energies had multiplied his latent psychic abilities many times. He looked about him, the fog of blood obscuring his sight, but he could see warp hounds lapping the energies that were released into the ether realm. He looked about and saw daemons who had been whispering to other children, most who were dead, a few had accepted the deal, and they were amongst the living. The imperial forces had stopped their run towards him, as his attention had waxed. He looked at them again, and in a flash a bolt of psychic energies lashed out at the closest of them, tearing the Salvar trooper in two. He now had the power and will to extract his anger upon the destroyers of his way of life, his anger had found form, and power in the warp. He commanded the other daemonic beings to him, and together they ran to destroy the invaders, now the children were the ones with the power.

The yellow armored marines reacted with practiced ease, bolt guns swinging to fire at the remaining children. Others swung their chain swords from their holsters and drew their bolt pistols, ready to receive the charge they fired their pistols with an almost graceful disdain. But the bolt rounds failed to stop even one of the daemonic children, the new daemon energy infused skins simply refusing to give to the power of the bolts. Behind the front row, the heavy weapons of the marines were being readied, their dash forward having disrupted the firing litanies. The children would not make the line by the time they fired, and they did not expect the children to survive the power of their weapons.

From a first story window Bahamut Dragonlord gave the signal to open fire, and every autocannon the fourth had on this planet fired in unisons. The guns were aligned in the adminstratum buildings surrounding the courtyard, giving them enough range for each gun to cover the distance between buildings, the massive fullsade made the previous weapons fire look miniscule in comparison. Thirty autocannons barked their death command, and dozens of the Imperiums finest warriors dropped, lifeless to the ground. A second barking and there were no more imperial forces standing. The fourth's third shot realigned to hit the armored transports they had arrived in, a second round of shooting was not needed, as the whole of the transports had been destroyed. It was force enmasse, and it had worked as designed. The children were left with no force to rage against.

Bahamut looked upon the children, the new children of Slaanesh, and bade them to come with him, for their tasks were just beginning. The child of power eyes glowed with the light of deep red anger, the energy of the warp flowing through him to strike down Bahamut and curse him with spawndom. But he stopped when from the corner of his eye he saw a marine armored in dark purple armor. His will drained as the purple armored figure approached him.

ďYou are the second of the seven sins I seek, do not fear you will make the Imperial Fists pay many times over for what they have inflicted upon you. Take your leave now and cleanse this city of the Salvar Chemdogs. Sate your hatred, and then we will leave.Ē

He looked at the warrior before him, understanding his purpose now. He turned and ran towards the remains of his city a life time of pain and anger driving his legs. Besides him ran his five pets, they would cleanse the city, and return to their new master.

And the boy, who had never had a name found his name. He was wrath the deadliest of manís sins.
 
« Last Edit: April 16, 2014, 12:12:16 PM by refuse »
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