chapter 7

2nd Battle on Zalthar

The sky was the same bloody hues across the Desert, on the outskirts of the vast and wild Herbau Forest, some 60 Miles South of the Capital, Astromus. One of the largest temperate Forests on Zalthar, a great many years ago it had been the site for the “Nuclear-Village”, a bold and at the time of its conception, revolutionary project. The idea had been to create a self-contained “City”, who’s primary industry was the generation and supply of a large proportion of the Plains Section of Zalthar’s Mining Industries vast energy needs. This was to be achieved through a chain of New generation Sub- Atomic Nuclear Reactors, built, run and maintained by the residents of the “Village”, hidden away in the remote safety of the Herbau Forrest. And all went well, until the alternative energy market began to gain both credibility, momentum and Market Share. Nuclear Energy, even this brand -new breed was not the cheapest, most efficient nor cleanest form of Energy Generation, and so ways had to be found to reduce the costs. Whether too many short-cuts were taken, still all these Centauries later, no one is any the wiser, but something went wrong, resulting in a thermonuclear explosion, with a yield of just under 160 Megatons, creating a crater about 80 miles wide, vaporising the “Village”, its residents and the other 5 Reactors. Still today the area remains a radioactive waste land with background levels still to dangerous to permit recolonisation.

The Imperium had done with the Salamander, and as with most things it had no further use for, it had simply discarded it, and even this was done badly, unknown to the Inquisition. The body should have been destroyed, or consigned to the deepest Void, but the Civilian Contractor involved decided to save a whole heap of cash, and dump the corpse where he though it would never, or not within his life time, be found. In the irradiated section of the Herbau Forest |! But there were others whom had a use for it too, and unlike the Imperium, their use for an Astarte’s from before the Heresy, did not end with his death, and they were not the slightest bit concerned about Radiation ! In fact, the Radiation would not only keep the Humans away, but deep within the fall-out zone they would be shielded from almost all of their Scanners,

Certainly Malidus, whom some called “the Crow” , “Dark Apostle” of the 9^th Coven of the Word Bearers, could think of such uses, in deed he had done little else since the Gods had foretold of a Great Gift, here, on the Planet below and his for the taking. But, Malidus knew of others, also servants of Ruin, with equally covetous thoughts who would see his plans undone and take the prize for themselves, so that they might offer it to the Pantheon in his stead, and then they, not he, would have the Masters approval. 

Damn Be'lakor and his Khornate lackeys, this was his moment, after those two arrogant fools that would call themselves Primarch’s failed to make a gift of this planet, this Zalthar and its infinite Riches to their Masters, the Pantheon was displeased. It wept, it moaned and it cursed, could these fools not hear, for it was in sore need of the sweet succour of souls, and from Malidus‘s own two hands, that is what it would have ! The sweetest of souls, one kept cold and waiting, marinating in betrayal !

And now Malidus was ready to make good on that oath. Standing on lip of a blackened valley, torched by that disaster many cycles ago, He surveyed the scene before him. As far as he could see in any direction lay a strange, ruined landscape of black, leafless trees, twisted twiggy shrubs and stumps, sprouting from an ashen earth To his front, way out in the gathering dark somewhere, stood his enemy, bands of whatever Daemons and Warp beings that Be'lakor and his Khornate Allies could drag to their pathetic cause. Their venture had no form, no purpose, it had not been written as had his !

With Malidus were his retinue of the truest and best, his most skilled Warriors, all in Tactical Dreadnought Armour - his Terminators. These were his Guard, his Elite, each one of whom would die for him a hundred times over and still feel themselves wanting. Crackling blue flame, further imbued with Witch-fire danced across the fearsome Talons’ of their Lightning Claws, heavy Combination Bolter-Flamers dangled at waists, drip, dripping sizzling promethium, whilst some clutched powerful Reaper-Autocannon‘s, whose stream of mass-reactive shells would literally blast their opponents’ in two !



To his right, stood Mourvin, First Acolyte of the 9^th Coven, of the Word Bearers, commanding his own contingent of Bearers of the Sacred Word of their Primarch, his Book of Lorgar, bound in Human-Skin and bound to his right thigh by cast-iron chains with barbed links that would tear his flesh as he walked, keeping fresh in his mind the sufferings their Lord had endured at the hands of his own father !

Between them stretched two Companies of “The Children”. These son/daughters of Slaanesh had for days now been fed nought but sips of the milk-venom of the Daemon Prince C’aatlyis until their brains almost boiled in their skulls. They nattered and stamped, systems racing with the equivalent of lethal doses of combat styms racing through their systems. A little like spending two days on a diet of espresso’s and Redd Bull (Do NOT try this at Home !).

Directly to Malidus’s right’, were the brooding flesh-metal forms of the Obliterator Cult. These hulking Man-machines stood as break-waters before a sea-storm, unflinching and solid, cycling through their organic weaponry with consummate ease and the skill of master-craftsmen These were indeed the Lords-of-War, violence elementals that lived for the depth of battle, the heat of the fray, their defining purpose.
Beyond them, now hidden in part by the mist that rolled in with the Dark, he could just make out the shapes and spine-chilling murmurs of his possessed, “The Incised”.
Named after the ritual incisions that covered their skin and armour, never differentiating between the two, reciting entire treatise from the Book of Lorgar in every minute detail, every pen stroke a flourish faithfully duplicated.. But as Battle drew near, come closer - subtle changes were now being made manifest, as bones thickened and lengthened, muscles bulked and teeth extended through lips, Closer, spines twisted and eyes widened, pupils splitting wolf-like, Closer - spines forced their way up through flesh as men screamed, as fingers broke then knitted as talons, CLOSER -wailed as tongues swelled and split to forks and horns erupted from foreheads, tusks burst from frayed cheeks’ and Daemon Blood boiled in their veins. Til at last they crouched in the mist, shining, panting with blood and sweat in the light of the Moon when the darks accompanying mists parted.
Beyond the “Incised” were further Companies of “The Children” and then to the far right, alone and unflinching, were the Plague Marines’ all, though they fought for Gold as much as Gangrene on this day. Solid and reliable, Drachaen, Malidus’s Coryphaus and Militarist, had chosen them to anchor this flank

Wings folded, the Daemon Prince\Princess C’aatlyis dropped to Malidus’s right, bowing in mock humility
”Greetings Crow-father, I see you have preened your flock !”
“I trust that you have prepared our Children ? The time is almost upon us, can you not smell Be'lakor’s great un-washed rabble out there between the trees ?”

C’aatlyis shot what appeared to some, to be an almost nervous glance out towards the tree line and the occasional flittering shape of the Daemon and Warp-born things within, for whilst it yearned for War and the excesses that would bring, C’aatlyis was basically a coward at heart, saved at such times by the great strength of its base desires.

Be'lakor did indeed have Khornate Allies, lots of Khornate Allies, and hordes of Bloodletters filled every slight depression and fold around the clearing in which he stood. And net to him stood the Bloodletters Lord and Master in thie realm, a huge crimson Bloodthirster, over 12 foot at the shoulder, arms like saplings. In one hand a Whip with barbs of fire, twisted and coiled as if it were a serpent, whilst in the other he held a Great Axe, his hand on the top of the strapped haft, the heavy bladed head in the ash of the wood floor, some 3 meters below.
Off to one side, Be'lakor could also see some Skull Cannons rolling effortlessly through the trees, almost silent across the ash.
“We’ll not be burning them out my fiery friend,“ Be'lakor half joked, waving his hand across the charred, irradiated wasteland.
“We will kill”, replied the Bloodthirster, “my Troops are loyal and strong and the mist, the trees and the folds in the earth trees may let us close on them whilst my cannons play a tune of Death amongst their Ranks.”
“Let us hope you Lord Khorne will it be so !”
Standing his axe against a tree, the Bloodthirster walked to the centre of the clearing, beckoning for one of the nearby Bloodletters to come forward. As it came within his reach, his hand shot from his side as he gabbed the unfortunate creature. With a mighty hand wrapped around its head, he lifted it higher so all around could see. Confident all had seen the Bloodletter dangling from his mighty fist, he squeezed, and with a ‘crack’, its skull exploded, showering him in gore.
“Blood, for the Blood God”, he bellowed, before reaching up with his other hand and tearing the thing in two. He threw half into each of the nearest herds of Bloodletters who eagerly fell upon their former comrade, ripping what was left to pieces and consuming it in a blur of frenzied activity. When this was done, all the Bloodletters turned to face their Lord, and one by one took up the chant !

“Blood, for the Blood God,

Blood, for the Blood God,

Blood, for the Blood God, 

Blood, for the Blood God,

Blood, for the Blood God ………………..”.

The growling and chanting from within certain sectioned of the Woods seemed to increase in a steadily developing pattern, now gradually being accompanied by the rhythmic stamping of feet that was growing in tempo of feet.

Sensing the danger rise, Malidus was fast to respond to break the growing “spell” of perceived menace the noise was generating. With just a gesture of his hand to one of the Sergeants of the “Children”, the mans face split open length-ways, two tongues basting saliva along the fresh opening as a disturbing sound began deep in his chest. The next moment the Hell-Shriek burst forth with such force that some, caught unawares were knocked from their feet, though all grimaced and covered their ears. From within the closest stand of trees, several figures stumbled forwards from cover, blood flowing from their, ears, noses and mouths, whilst their now crazed eyes rolled madly in eviscerated socket’s. There was silence briefly, then a relieved funereal laughter rippled through the ranks as the tension was released.

A fierce howl tore forth from further within the woods, picked up along the length of the enemy line, now it would begin.

Several deep sonic discharges pulsed as Khorne’s Shull Cannons spoke and from the mist came hurtling fiery skull that burst within the ranks of the nearest Company of “The Children”, incinerating some and instantly reducing one or two to columns of ash, and his Bloodletters came forth in hordes. Malidus’s arm shot up, fist clenched, the line answering as Bolters were racked up, magazines pushed tight-home and weapons cocked in a staccato wave of metallic - clicks. From within the Woods the cries grew louder, closer, as did the scrabbling of claws. Bronze and Gold Trumpets blared in synchronicity if not harmony, accompanied by all manner of barks, snarls and growls as from within the Woods, the cries grew louder, closer !

Louder.

More incendiary skulls screamed from within the far trees, their trajectory wide and long, causing them to burst close behind the “Incised” , the conflagration felling their Champion, who burned without a sound. 

Closer

All along the line, Heavy weapons roared, and one of “The Children’s” Lascannon snap-fired into the trees, catching an unwary Skull Cannon in it‘s low wattage targeting beam. Locked, the Photonic Crystal Beam penetrated the armour, destroying the Daemonic Construct in flash incandescent light, that illuminated the leering grin on the mouth of its kin’s Cannon. A mouth that seemed to chuckle as it slipped away between the blackened trunks. Further down the line, were the flashes of other Lascannon’s, and the bright Blue-White of Plasma Guns spitting death into advancing Ranks of Bloodletters !

Louder.

The air was filled with the flapping of great leathery wings and incantations as Be'lakor and the Giant Bloodthirster swooped in to wreck havoc, the air filing with Bolter rounds Plasma, and streams of Auocannon tracer danced about the low clouds. Lit from the many fires now raging below, the Heavens once again glowed red and the air was filled with the rage of the living and the cries of the dying as s still the host of Khorne kept on to the blasts of their great bronze Trumpets !

Closer.

The Great Bloodthirster landed, then bellowing in furry at the rounds that pattered against thick-scaly hide and Warp-Forged Armour, stalked off through a wall of incoming fire, toward the point in the line where stood the Mourvin and Word Bearers’ most faithful. With his fire-barbed Whip and Great Axe, he carved a path through the sea of nameless Warp-spawned minions that ebbed and flowed through such battles, owing allegiance to neither one side nor the other, but as he approached the lines of the Mortals, he drew the attention of Malidus’s Terminator’s. Upon who upon seeing one of the Blood Gods favoured Sons advancing toward their Brethren, and first Acolyte Mourvin, the Terminator’s opened up rapid sustained fire from their Combi-Bolters, supported by a Reaper Autocannon. A Company of “The Children” also paused from strafing the Woods, to concentrate on this more immediate threat, one of their Plasma Gunners, inflicting upon this Servant of Khorne, a most grievous harm ! Having suffered wounds that would have felled most foes, the Bloodthirster merely crouched, but as he went to straighten, his whole body convulsed with a series of spasms as the heavy shells of the Obliterator Cult’s Autocannon’s found their mark, literally cutting him down with a blizzard of fire. 
And so it was that the Mighty Bloodthirster fell, it having taken a barrage of fire to halt his inexorable advance !

Louder.

Closer.

Be'lakor too had landed, though not unscathed, so with a word of his sorceries’, he smudged his outline rendering all but invisible and impossible to strike. With a second word, he cast doubt into the minds of the “Incised”, causing their Daemons to squirm uncomfortably within them. Be'lakor‘s third word died on his lip‘s, its power denied him, as he charged the “Incised“. Their Daemon Kin however were strengthened from within, moving faster and wielding their weaponised limbs with greater ease as they fought back against Be'lakor with wild abandon. Even with his lightning fast reflexes, he was only marginally faster than the “Incised”, the Blade of Shadows only wounding two of them, although killing them with ease. Despite his Invisibility, the attacks of the “Incised“ were so ferocious, Be'lakor suffered three grievous wounds in return from their fanatically flailing limbs, that even his Shadow Forms increased Invulnerability could not save him from. Struggling with his wounds, Be'lakor still attacked again with renewed effort, though failed somehow to land any telling blows, and with the three “Incised” still standing cut him down. His Dark Soul reached for the Internal Warrior within him, clawed fingers groping, clutching for that strand of power at his core, but it slipped from his grasp. 
His efforts to claim the shell of the Salamander and whatever secrets it may have held had been in vain, and he dropped to his knees, before slumping heavily to the charred earth and lay still.

Closer still.

“Present“, cried Malidus, and Bolters were pulled to shoulders.
And a living wave of Bloodletters poured from the mist, moonlight flashing from scores of Hellblade’s as they rose for the kill ! 
But, at the very same moment, along entire line and at the shortest range he had dared risk, the tense, coiled spring that for cycle upon cycle C’aatlyis and its nerve tingling milk-venom had wound, Malidus’s single word released.
“Now !“
The discharge was deafening, precise and brutally efficient, a long drawn out repost, like the sound of tearing a sheet of the freshest fine paper. The 1^st salvo tore into the Bloodletters with devastating effect. Arms raised to deliver their killing blows, the mass-reactive shells tore into the Bloodletters unprotected chests and bellies, virtually ripping the first rank in half and shredding the second, but the momentum kept them coming. Although their overwatch fire did fell a few stragglers, it was but an echo of a charge that tumbled into the ranks of “The Children”, who as every Child of Slaanesh, still possessed their preternatural speed. Still fuelled by Catalysis’ milk-venom as well, “The Children” then fell upon the surviving Bloodletters in close combat before they could gather themselves to strike, and within a few gruesome moments, it was all over.

Malidus, in an unknown moment of compassion, raised his hand, and all along the line, his Soldiers stopped. Servant of Chaos and pledged to the Ruinous Powers he maybe, but he had been a Soldier once, and so had his men. No there would be no more killing here today, and staring at the nearest startled Bloodletter, he angrily waved it away. He did not have to show it twice, and within moments, the field was clear !

Unlike the unfortunate Be'lakor, or at least this incarnation of him, for he would doubtless find another shell. Malidus on the other hand had a shell somewhere around here for someone else to play with !
“Oh Demitasse !“
There was a bustling for a while behind him and Malidus could hear the name being called over and over further and further back. Then there were a few moments silence, before the sound of shuffling feet and laboured breaths, and a slightly confused Apothecary Demitasse appeared, looking wonderfully manic.
“I’m sorry Demitasse, I really do blame myself entirely for your condition you know, simply can’t find you enough to do ! Today however, I’m going to rectify that, I will shortly have a fresh, well freshish Astarte’s for you, pre- Heresy vintage !”
“You are too, too kind my Lord, too kind.”
“ Mourvin will show you.”
And with that the 9^th Cabal’s Apothecary, Demitasse, previously of The Quillborn Chapter, until they found him too unwell for their tastes. Well, he fit with the 9^th Coven perfectly, for we are all a little Mad here !