Word count: 2190
Varrel is a name taken from a Dark Heresy character from a friend of mine; used with permission though he might regret it now...
Brazilay means iron, strong in Hebrew.
I take full responsibility for any grammar errors, I suck at it as I know too many languages and mix grammar rules up. Emperor forgive me.
Contqual Sub-sector, Hive World Shardenus, 812.M41
Varrel ran as hard as he could, pushing his already exhausted body to its limits. Despite his exhaustion his mind couldn't seem to stop going over the events that transpired. In a continuous loop they were replayed in his mind.
Whispers about corrupt politicians had always ran amok amongst the population but what could simple civilians have done about that?
When whispers of the corruption within Imperial society had started, nobody had ever dared to imply it hadn't anything to do with thrones and political power being shifted around but rather a lot more with the taint of chaos.
Every citizen of Hive-World Shardenus had a healthy respect for their betters; be it an arbitrator upholding the law or a highly placed political figure. The civilians never questioned Varrel and he had never dared question his superiors.
He clenched his fingers tightly around his lasgun, hoping to find some small feeling of not being completely helpless in that act. As an arbitrator he had never once felt helpless against any enemy. Not so now. For how could you defend yourself against the very thing that was supposed to protect you?
------------------------------------------------------------------
Barzilay's annoyance started to grow. This wild goose chase had gone on long enough. He had split from his Brothers some time ago to chase a click on his radar, a possible survivor, thinking it was a simple matter of search and destroy within a few seconds.
It had been almost three hours now and when he updated his status through his helmet's vox he could almost see the grimacing faces of his Brothers, sharing his shame. It was a severe blow to his reputation, and that of the whole squad, that a simple task such as this was taking him far longer than should have been.
His life had always been about survival from the very start; dozens of potential candidates had been deemed unworthy, died in the process or had been outright killed when they had failed to achieve the standards set by their Primarch. He had survived and not only just that, he had risen amongst the ranks fairly fast. He had defeated a Sergeant from the Sorrgol Clan in hand to hand combat when he was but a neonate, only his hand had been True Iron back then. He gained a few new implants after the duel though he had made no objections to that. Weak flesh that failed in such a duel was better off replaced anyway lest it failed him later on.
He almost bared his teeth in a snarl thinking of the weakness in other Chapters that feared technology rather than embracing it.
A sudden flash of a shadow immediately brought his thoughts back to the current situation. Chemicals were pumped into his system and he could feel the reassuring hum of servo-engines throughout his body, letting him know that the blessed implants were ready for anything. His left eye scanned the vicinity for any life-signs. He had always put more faith in his bionic eye than his biological one, even though it was enhanced and far superior than any human eye. What it missed was heat-seeking capacity though and he had to rely on that ability in this pit-infested hole as the scanners seemed untrustworthy at times for some reason.
Foot prints lit up a bright green. He was on the right track and very close now.
"Target acquired, soon now my Brothers."
He could have sworn he heard some sighs of relief but that was impossible. The Iron Hands were beyond such base emotions.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Varrel watched the Angel from the top of the ruined balcony. After the first real battle the Hive had turned into a maze he barely recognized.
With all the demons gone the surviving citizens had run up to greet the Angels that had saved them, all thought of the ruthlessness they had seen forgotten out of relief for having survived. The Angels had just stood there, not even acknowledging their existence. Like unnerving metal statues they had been and that should have been their first clue of the coldness in their hearts.
Obviously stories were told about the Emperor's warriors and they had known what to expect. Immense warriors without mercy or fear and having them seen cut through the demons that had infested their world Varrel felt his heart swell with pride that he was part of such a great Empire. With warriors such as these what was there to fear?
Of course everybody was dead-tired and grieving for all the lost, some minds even shattered because of the things they had seen, but at least they could rebuild. They could honor the memory of the fallen by living on.
But then it happened. Varrel had heard a strange sort of clicking and hissing going on between the Angels and for the first time they started to move. Tension rose in the gathered crowd as the biggest one stepped forward and begun speaking in a metallic scratchy voice that almost hurt his ears.
"Citizens of Hive Threy of Hive World Shardenus. The enemy has been defeated."
Cheers had erupted from those gathered but a wave of the Angels' hand had silenced them.
"The battle for the soul of this planet is not over. It is by your actions, or better said inaction, that this has happened. You should have been more vigilant and stronger in mind."
Murmurs and whispers had slowly risen up amongst the crowd, terrified flashes of white faces amongst them.
The voice became louder, accusing and almost angry sounding; "it has therefore been decided that an example must be made. By our actions will you remember the price of failure. If anything, ever, happens again know that we will return and finish what we started here. Then, there shall be truly nothing left".
It all happened so fast after that, the blessed weapons that had rent through demons only hours before had now ripped through the bodies of citizens. It seemed so random, some bodies exploded in a shower of blood right next to people who were left living. If you could even speak of living after all that had transpired.
Varrel had only survived because of his instincts bred by years of service in the Adeptus Arbites. He had kept running for hours straight until he had come across a small group of Angels. He had kept perfectly still but for some reason one had spotted him and set out towards him. His only advantage was that he knew the Hive well, even though most it had been destroyed, and that he was smaller; able to squirm himself through cracks. He had put good distance between himself and the iron giant.
He almost cried when he heard the slow thumping sound of one closing in. From the sound of the footfall and the hissing and grinding of gears he knew it to be the same one he had ran from hours before. How was it possible? He made sure there were no tracks to follow. Was he being less careful because of exhaustion?
He smiled a grim smile, he should be proud of himself. He had survived against an Angel for far longer than most of the horrible daemonic creatures. No small feat. How long could he still go on running anyway?
Years of indoctrination kicked in and overcame his basic survival instincts. He offered a small prayer to the Emperor, asking him for forgiveness for trying to escape his divine judgment. He stood up and called out to the Angel below him.
"I'm here, I only ask you to please finish it quickly."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Barzilay heard a very faint voice above him. He turned around, bolter at the ready, and found his target standing with his hands held above his head on a ruined balcony. He silently acknowledged to himself that he had grown some measure of respect for the man. That he had come out of hiding and accepted punishment spoke well of him.
It was only now that he noticed the uniform of an Arbitrator. The uniform was covered in blood and other stains, possibly even stains from when the demons had first broken through. As an Arbitrator he had undoubtedly tried to do his duty.
"Come down", he growled "and don't try to run again, It's getting tiresome".
The man climbed down the rubble and walked towards him, hands still above his head which amused Barzilay somewhat. It was a common gesture of surrender but fairly useless against him. What could he possibly do with any weapons he possessed against him? The man limped slightly and seemed ready to fall over at any time.
Brazilay lowered his bolter and the man stopped a few meters away from him.
"When the enemy came what did you do?"
The man blinked, surprised by the question and stammered a reply "W-what do you mean?"
"What did you do? It is a simple enough question is it not?"
"I was on patrol, my team was...ripped apart by some...thing. I tried to take it down but my weapon was useless so I fell back into the Arbites Station with other survivors." The man's face looked disturbed as he was recalling the unholy things he had witnessed but it suddenly lit up; his eyes sparkling and a shadow of a smile around his lips. "We had heavier weaponry at the Station. We collected as much as we could and swore an oath to take as many of the bastards down as we could before we died. We took down a really big one with pincers and then...then we saw the pods coming in".
Brazilay almost frowned. It was his squad that had dropped down in this Hive by Drop Pod but it had become clear that a huge daemon was right in their trajectory. They would have had to react really quickly and hopefully they could make contact before it would turn on the Pod, possibly killing them before they could even so much as fire one round. Drop Pods were a great way to plummet into a battlefield but their downside was that there was a slight delay in making contact with the ground and the hatches opening. Regular daemons were no problem but this thing had monstrous proportions.
Before they had made true planet-fall however the thing had exploded for unknown reasons. They had found traces of rocket-fire amongst it remains but had no clue where it had came from. Whomever had fired the rockets were impossible to find and also wasn't part of their battle-plan at that time. It was beyond belief that he now stood before they very man that might have been part of it.
"Where did you went after you did that?"
"Into the sewer-system. Before those small crawling things came to infest it we used it to quickly go from one place to another. We didn't even wait to see if the things were really dead or not. If it went crashing to the ground we figured it was out of battle", the man sighed, "we slowly lost one person after the other. We knew we wouldn't survive and this was all we could to assist. I survived somehow....but...I haven't seen any of my relatives". The man broke down and cried, finally able to release his emotions.
Barzilay was dumb-struck. It explained a lot. There were many stories of such invisible helpers though at the time they didn't, could not, pay any attention to it. Few citizens had survived, those that had were usually sheltered in bunkers or other such safe-houses but this man had been out there, actually fighting. His mind raced and reached a conclusion.
He raised his bolter and pulled the trigger. The bolt flew out, piercing the man through his chest and exploded in a loud bang. The look on the man's face was one of surprise.
Had he truly though he would have let him live after multiple contacts with daemons? The risk of corruption was far too great.
He opened a vox-channel "Rendez-vous in two hours and sixteen minutes. Enemy purged."
"Glory to the Raukaan Clan!" his Battle-Brothers cried in unison.
Brazilay finally allowed himself a small smile.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Varrel always thought that a shot from a boltgun would kill a man instantly but he was perversely aware of his body dying for what seemed like an eternity.
He didn't feel any real pain but was strangely aware that his chest was completely gone. Memories of his life flashed by and he felt a growing disdain for the Imperium, after all he had done it hadn't been enough. He had not expected to get away with his life but at the very least some small acknowledgment of his actions, and those of his dead companions, from the Angel would have been enough for him. All he got was a cold stare from that....thing.
In his final breath he cursed the Emperor. He heard a faint laughter somewhere far away and was pulled into the darkness.
Varrel is a name taken from a Dark Heresy character from a friend of mine; used with permission though he might regret it now...
Brazilay means iron, strong in Hebrew.
I take full responsibility for any grammar errors, I suck at it as I know too many languages and mix grammar rules up. Emperor forgive me.
Contqual Sub-sector, Hive World Shardenus, 812.M41
Varrel ran as hard as he could, pushing his already exhausted body to its limits. Despite his exhaustion his mind couldn't seem to stop going over the events that transpired. In a continuous loop they were replayed in his mind.
Whispers about corrupt politicians had always ran amok amongst the population but what could simple civilians have done about that?
When whispers of the corruption within Imperial society had started, nobody had ever dared to imply it hadn't anything to do with thrones and political power being shifted around but rather a lot more with the taint of chaos.
Every citizen of Hive-World Shardenus had a healthy respect for their betters; be it an arbitrator upholding the law or a highly placed political figure. The civilians never questioned Varrel and he had never dared question his superiors.
He clenched his fingers tightly around his lasgun, hoping to find some small feeling of not being completely helpless in that act. As an arbitrator he had never once felt helpless against any enemy. Not so now. For how could you defend yourself against the very thing that was supposed to protect you?
------------------------------------------------------------------
Barzilay's annoyance started to grow. This wild goose chase had gone on long enough. He had split from his Brothers some time ago to chase a click on his radar, a possible survivor, thinking it was a simple matter of search and destroy within a few seconds.
It had been almost three hours now and when he updated his status through his helmet's vox he could almost see the grimacing faces of his Brothers, sharing his shame. It was a severe blow to his reputation, and that of the whole squad, that a simple task such as this was taking him far longer than should have been.
His life had always been about survival from the very start; dozens of potential candidates had been deemed unworthy, died in the process or had been outright killed when they had failed to achieve the standards set by their Primarch. He had survived and not only just that, he had risen amongst the ranks fairly fast. He had defeated a Sergeant from the Sorrgol Clan in hand to hand combat when he was but a neonate, only his hand had been True Iron back then. He gained a few new implants after the duel though he had made no objections to that. Weak flesh that failed in such a duel was better off replaced anyway lest it failed him later on.
He almost bared his teeth in a snarl thinking of the weakness in other Chapters that feared technology rather than embracing it.
A sudden flash of a shadow immediately brought his thoughts back to the current situation. Chemicals were pumped into his system and he could feel the reassuring hum of servo-engines throughout his body, letting him know that the blessed implants were ready for anything. His left eye scanned the vicinity for any life-signs. He had always put more faith in his bionic eye than his biological one, even though it was enhanced and far superior than any human eye. What it missed was heat-seeking capacity though and he had to rely on that ability in this pit-infested hole as the scanners seemed untrustworthy at times for some reason.
Foot prints lit up a bright green. He was on the right track and very close now.
"Target acquired, soon now my Brothers."
He could have sworn he heard some sighs of relief but that was impossible. The Iron Hands were beyond such base emotions.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Varrel watched the Angel from the top of the ruined balcony. After the first real battle the Hive had turned into a maze he barely recognized.
With all the demons gone the surviving citizens had run up to greet the Angels that had saved them, all thought of the ruthlessness they had seen forgotten out of relief for having survived. The Angels had just stood there, not even acknowledging their existence. Like unnerving metal statues they had been and that should have been their first clue of the coldness in their hearts.
Obviously stories were told about the Emperor's warriors and they had known what to expect. Immense warriors without mercy or fear and having them seen cut through the demons that had infested their world Varrel felt his heart swell with pride that he was part of such a great Empire. With warriors such as these what was there to fear?
Of course everybody was dead-tired and grieving for all the lost, some minds even shattered because of the things they had seen, but at least they could rebuild. They could honor the memory of the fallen by living on.
But then it happened. Varrel had heard a strange sort of clicking and hissing going on between the Angels and for the first time they started to move. Tension rose in the gathered crowd as the biggest one stepped forward and begun speaking in a metallic scratchy voice that almost hurt his ears.
"Citizens of Hive Threy of Hive World Shardenus. The enemy has been defeated."
Cheers had erupted from those gathered but a wave of the Angels' hand had silenced them.
"The battle for the soul of this planet is not over. It is by your actions, or better said inaction, that this has happened. You should have been more vigilant and stronger in mind."
Murmurs and whispers had slowly risen up amongst the crowd, terrified flashes of white faces amongst them.
The voice became louder, accusing and almost angry sounding; "it has therefore been decided that an example must be made. By our actions will you remember the price of failure. If anything, ever, happens again know that we will return and finish what we started here. Then, there shall be truly nothing left".
It all happened so fast after that, the blessed weapons that had rent through demons only hours before had now ripped through the bodies of citizens. It seemed so random, some bodies exploded in a shower of blood right next to people who were left living. If you could even speak of living after all that had transpired.
Varrel had only survived because of his instincts bred by years of service in the Adeptus Arbites. He had kept running for hours straight until he had come across a small group of Angels. He had kept perfectly still but for some reason one had spotted him and set out towards him. His only advantage was that he knew the Hive well, even though most it had been destroyed, and that he was smaller; able to squirm himself through cracks. He had put good distance between himself and the iron giant.
He almost cried when he heard the slow thumping sound of one closing in. From the sound of the footfall and the hissing and grinding of gears he knew it to be the same one he had ran from hours before. How was it possible? He made sure there were no tracks to follow. Was he being less careful because of exhaustion?
He smiled a grim smile, he should be proud of himself. He had survived against an Angel for far longer than most of the horrible daemonic creatures. No small feat. How long could he still go on running anyway?
Years of indoctrination kicked in and overcame his basic survival instincts. He offered a small prayer to the Emperor, asking him for forgiveness for trying to escape his divine judgment. He stood up and called out to the Angel below him.
"I'm here, I only ask you to please finish it quickly."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Barzilay heard a very faint voice above him. He turned around, bolter at the ready, and found his target standing with his hands held above his head on a ruined balcony. He silently acknowledged to himself that he had grown some measure of respect for the man. That he had come out of hiding and accepted punishment spoke well of him.
It was only now that he noticed the uniform of an Arbitrator. The uniform was covered in blood and other stains, possibly even stains from when the demons had first broken through. As an Arbitrator he had undoubtedly tried to do his duty.
"Come down", he growled "and don't try to run again, It's getting tiresome".
The man climbed down the rubble and walked towards him, hands still above his head which amused Barzilay somewhat. It was a common gesture of surrender but fairly useless against him. What could he possibly do with any weapons he possessed against him? The man limped slightly and seemed ready to fall over at any time.
Brazilay lowered his bolter and the man stopped a few meters away from him.
"When the enemy came what did you do?"
The man blinked, surprised by the question and stammered a reply "W-what do you mean?"
"What did you do? It is a simple enough question is it not?"
"I was on patrol, my team was...ripped apart by some...thing. I tried to take it down but my weapon was useless so I fell back into the Arbites Station with other survivors." The man's face looked disturbed as he was recalling the unholy things he had witnessed but it suddenly lit up; his eyes sparkling and a shadow of a smile around his lips. "We had heavier weaponry at the Station. We collected as much as we could and swore an oath to take as many of the bastards down as we could before we died. We took down a really big one with pincers and then...then we saw the pods coming in".
Brazilay almost frowned. It was his squad that had dropped down in this Hive by Drop Pod but it had become clear that a huge daemon was right in their trajectory. They would have had to react really quickly and hopefully they could make contact before it would turn on the Pod, possibly killing them before they could even so much as fire one round. Drop Pods were a great way to plummet into a battlefield but their downside was that there was a slight delay in making contact with the ground and the hatches opening. Regular daemons were no problem but this thing had monstrous proportions.
Before they had made true planet-fall however the thing had exploded for unknown reasons. They had found traces of rocket-fire amongst it remains but had no clue where it had came from. Whomever had fired the rockets were impossible to find and also wasn't part of their battle-plan at that time. It was beyond belief that he now stood before they very man that might have been part of it.
"Where did you went after you did that?"
"Into the sewer-system. Before those small crawling things came to infest it we used it to quickly go from one place to another. We didn't even wait to see if the things were really dead or not. If it went crashing to the ground we figured it was out of battle", the man sighed, "we slowly lost one person after the other. We knew we wouldn't survive and this was all we could to assist. I survived somehow....but...I haven't seen any of my relatives". The man broke down and cried, finally able to release his emotions.
Barzilay was dumb-struck. It explained a lot. There were many stories of such invisible helpers though at the time they didn't, could not, pay any attention to it. Few citizens had survived, those that had were usually sheltered in bunkers or other such safe-houses but this man had been out there, actually fighting. His mind raced and reached a conclusion.
He raised his bolter and pulled the trigger. The bolt flew out, piercing the man through his chest and exploded in a loud bang. The look on the man's face was one of surprise.
Had he truly though he would have let him live after multiple contacts with daemons? The risk of corruption was far too great.
He opened a vox-channel "Rendez-vous in two hours and sixteen minutes. Enemy purged."
"Glory to the Raukaan Clan!" his Battle-Brothers cried in unison.
Brazilay finally allowed himself a small smile.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Varrel always thought that a shot from a boltgun would kill a man instantly but he was perversely aware of his body dying for what seemed like an eternity.
He didn't feel any real pain but was strangely aware that his chest was completely gone. Memories of his life flashed by and he felt a growing disdain for the Imperium, after all he had done it hadn't been enough. He had not expected to get away with his life but at the very least some small acknowledgment of his actions, and those of his dead companions, from the Angel would have been enough for him. All he got was a cold stare from that....thing.
In his final breath he cursed the Emperor. He heard a faint laughter somewhere far away and was pulled into the darkness.
. Don't get all depressed though, it was still great and much better than mine 
I'm envious of your writing awsomeness anyways.