Shit had hit the fan. Ponies all around had gathered in front of the space rock before… Before the guardpony… Twilight didn’t know what to do. Neither did anypony else, as they all stood as still as if a Cockatrice had waded through the village.
There was a hulking monstrosity, easily at least two heads taller than the princesses; standing over the corpse of a guardspony that it had just ripped in two separate pieces. It was wearing some form of… Metal? It looked so ramshackle that Twilight couldn’t tell. All she knows is that the red wasn’t just from the blood.
The blood. Oh Celestia… There was so much..! The guard was still quivering and twitching as everypony assembled there stared in utter disbelief of the enormity of the situation. His cries were only masked by the sound of the collective breath the herd gathered before the crater was holding. In Twilight’s studious eyes, she did the only thing she could. She analyzed the whole situation from a scientist’s perspective.
Her mind rambled through all the facts presented before her eyes. The height and potential strength of the creature, the individual tendons and muscles able to be seen still twitching from the guard, the thoughts of the gathered ponies and their logical course of action, and even what the Princess’s own judgments may have been. Her eyes had been closed for the better part of around two seconds, but twilight had formulated the perfect plan.
A Friendly greeting of course.
Now all she needed was the courage to walk towards the hulking bloodthirsty THING from space. She needed her friends. The same friends she had faced the rest of the world’s evils with and the same friends standing by her side. With a smile she turned her head and looked at the ponies gathered around her. The smile quickly faded as she saw each individual face.
Applejack was in near tears; that guard being a personal friend and a new found crush. Pinkie Pie had her mane flattened to paper thin levels and her eyes held a grey color to them in the replacement of their natural blue color. Rainbow dash had her wings locked to her side and her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, showing every ounce of fear in the sports pony. Rarity and Fluttershy had long since abandoned standing, instead deciding to weep together on the ground silently. A look around the crowd confirmed that this was the norm for most ponies. No one would step forward or step backwards.
Twilight was alone. She had to be the one to confront the alien and prevent further bloodshed. Fear itself had crept along her spine in that moment, wallowing in cowardice as well. She began to move, one fetlock in front of the other. Slowly but surely she began to lift her legs to start the atrociously long spotlight lit walk towards the respectable distance for talking. Shuffling behind her confirmed her best hopes. She was inspiring them! The crowd was beginning to stand! But she still had to take this journey alone.
With her heart playing out a beat faster than one of Vinyl Scratch’s songs, she advanced even further. Into the proverbial reach as her father once said. Her steps, long and slow, carried the weight of the world behind them. The light of the sun warm upon her mane, wind whipping across her face, the sound of a wings beating in the distance, and the soft pitter patter of her heart urging her forward.
The creature was moving now. Taking pieces off of its own body, taking the spikiest and crudest pieces and discarding them as if nothing mattered about them. What was revealed was a golden behemoth. He had about him a radiant glow that came directly from the pleasing sun. His “Skin” shined much like the Royal treasures and the Guard uniform it crushed underhoof. The smoke obscured the small symbols across the large being, but one thing was painfully obvious. Its eyes were aglow with a light so red it seemed to be as malevolent as the very pits of Tartarus themselves.
And they were staring straight at her.
An audible gulp escaped the deathly silent town. Twilight was now only a scant ten yards away from what seemed like the living avatar of death. The sun shined from behind the construct, giving it a glow that made Sun goddess of a teacher this particular pony preened about endlessly.
One hoof in front of the other. One hoof in front of the next. Keep your fetlocks from seizing. Don’t collapse and cry into the puddle of blood you are now standing in. These were the majority of the thoughts running through the lavender pony’s mind, a long ways away from the calculating genius mind she normally possessed. The most important was very different however.
To keep on smiling.
The last few feet here at hoof and the final stretch towards what seemed like eminent demise were before the two. Twilight’s smile was beginning to falter as she thought of what to say to the monstrous creature that could probably take on a manticore and win. Lines of dialogue went through the young mare’s head, most circumstances ending with her being torn apart and used as a club to kill her friends.
“Death be not proud, though some have called thee. Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so”. The thing tilted its head towards Twilight, seeming very surprised. The large body’s posture seemed to shift. But what came next surprised all. It responded.
“For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.”
Its voice was loud and grating, but underneath the entire technologic sounding rabble was a voice Twilight could understand. The sound of a Stallion in pain of loss. And an educated one at that. She deemed to continue the verbal tirade with the creature, maybe gain some peace with it
“From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be. Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow”, she continued. This poem may not have been her favorite, nor was it a very good conversation starter, but it was working.
“And soonest our best men with thee do go. Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.” The deep voice continued, seeming less and less robotic with every syllable.
“Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men. And dost with poison, ware, and sicknesses dwell.” It seemed to cringe at these words. But the disposition was beginning to rise as much as the talking behind them in the crowd.
“And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well. And better then thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?” The creature knelt down towards twilight, still towering over her but now only half as much so. It was reaching up towards what Twilight presumed to be its head and several popping and hissing sounds were heard. What happened next was a complete shock to all.
With a final hiss and a clank, what appeared to be his head was removed. What remained reminded Twilight of the stories she was told as a filly of the valiant knights in shining armor. While obviously not a pony, the creature almost looked similar and was obviously male. He had a medium cut mane of nearly golden hair that framed his face.
His face was like stone. Chiseled and strong but still supported a warm smile that melted Twilights heart. His coat, or maybe skin as Twilight had not the nerve to touch it, had a very bloodless look about it. It reminded her very much of blended Peaches and Cream. His eyes radiated a coldness that reminded Twilight of the Crystal Empire’s borders. But they were also filled with a type of jovialness that reminded her slightly of Pinkie.
Scars were scattered around the warrior’s face, enough to justify her guess of his occupation as a soldier. Pocket marked scars littered his face and were numerous; the largest however was one near the eye, or rather on top of it. This scar went from the far tip of his left eye brow and into the middle of upper lip. The scars, which normally would repulse Twilight, seemed to be worn with pride and honor, and as such made the vision of her golden knight seem much more real.
“Tell me small Xeno…” the break in the silence surprised the now welcoming crowd as much as the welcoming of one of the Royal sisters. “Do you remember the remainder of this ancient poem?”
Twilight stammered for a while. She had recited this poem for her Magic School Literary Class. She had explained it to Princess Celestia personally after she had seen Philomena “die” for the first time. She slaved for weeks over this and many other poems to teach the fillies and colts at the Ponyville schoolhouse when Cheerilee was on vacation. But for some awe inducing reason, the logic thinker of Ponyville could not remember her lessons.
“Speak not Twilight, for I shall answer to this beast.” Said an angelic voice from above. That voice belonged to none other than Princess Celestia as it turned out when Twilight was able to break her vision of the Warriors face. Following her in the sky was a whole division of royal Guardsponies. And none of them looked too happy to see a captain of theirs slaughtered on the ground.
Celestia continued, however. Finishing the poem that Twilight had forgotten. “One short sleep past, we wake eternally.” Her voice was beginning to become much darker, a look of pure anger was written across her features. The warrior needed no more incentive than the light gathering at the base of her horn to replace his helmet upon his head as the hiss soon told Twilight. “And death shall be no more; Death. THOU SHALT DIE!” With the final words, she released a beam of pure sunlight that burned the very molecules. With a shout, the warrior was already sprinting towards the line and Celestia herself. Shit was going down.
“PSYKER!” Garvel yelled as the beam of light soon left the horn of the taller winged Xeno. A shame he had to go into combat so soon though. He was enjoying his little soirée with the lavender one.
Garvel rushed the line of guards, who were surprised to say the least to see a several hundred pound warrior from space charged their line. The space marine laughed a hearty one when he saw the small creatures draw their flimsy spears of wood and iron. He leapt over the small line as if it were a hurdle. He knew blood would be shed, and in the Emperor’s name he was going to destroy that Psyker if it killed him.
A quick pivot lead to his arm being nearly embedded into a Xeno skull, leaving a nice Aquila indent in his skull. Thrusts were made to futile attempt as the superior weight and strength of the space marine was able to counter balance the pony guards and throw them into one another.
Breaking a spear within his hands, Garvel used pieces to reenact Angron’s fighting style. As in, “Stab everything till it dies, then keep stabbing”. Blood formed a visceral spray over the visor of the Sergeant, but nothing was to stop him from reaching his target.
One of the winged ones decided to rush him from the six ‘o’clock position, but what they did not understand is that an Astartes is the perfect war machine. With his amplified hearing, the rush of wings and the brandishing of weapons was easy to pick upon in the heat of battle.
Garvel was beginning to feel his warrior instincts taking over, putting him a trance like state to ensure utter destruction of his enemies. Still sprinting through the lines, Garvel took one of the pieces of the broken spear and rammed it through the poor bastard’s skull, using its own momentum against it. Blood drenched his fist as he ripped the Xeno off his arm to throw him at the Psyker. There was a small circle protecting the large witch, all of them having horns very similar to the purple one.
Comparisons ran through his genetically enhanced mind; There were normal Xenos without aid of either wings or horns who were the most numerous, winged Xenos whom could fly obviously, and horned Xenos, which seemed to be a fairly powerful psyker level.
Classification of the Xeno biology present complete, Garvel returned to Holy Slaughter. His assumptions that horned Xenos were Psykers proved to be correct when the final barrier between him and most likely the monarch all had their horns aglow and began to fire shots in his general direction.
Weaving through the brightly colored lights reminded Garvel of his participation in the Badab Rebellion. But this time, he was alone and these were not his Brothers in arms he would be fighting. His mind flashed to visions of similar battles during the war. He began to see the equines as Daemons he saw during his passage through the warp. His own features were shifting, his hair grew longer, his armor turned golden, and his hands melded to hold his new found weapons.
One thing startled him the most however. He was no longer on the Xeno world, He was on Holy Terra. The forces of Chaos were attacking the Imperial palace and he had to protect the Eternity Gate from the forces of Chaos. His Rival Ka’Bandha stood in a ring of Thousand Sons and he was determined to kill the Daemon.
“I am Sanguinius! Primarch of the Blood Angels!” He cried as he charged. “And today, Daemon. You WILL die!” The traitors could not stand to face the raging God of a man as he charged the Bloodthirster. Blow after blow rained down upon the hulking daemon. Blow after blow deflected by its chaotic blade. The fury of a Primarch and the Rage of the Blood God flowed through the two immortal soldiers.
The daemon was deflecting each and every blow Sanguinius had been raining down upon it, but it was beginning to falter and rely on warp magic to preserve its eternal life. Its blade no longer thirsted for the Primarch’s blood, but more for the safety of its owner. Fear crept upon the Daemon’s once rage filled face. Its death was at hand, revenge for the Blood Angels was at hand.
That looked changed to one of utter confusion as the Primarch smashed through the barriers and grasped the Daemon by the throat. The fight was over, the Daemon knew it. He would fall to Sanguinius this day. Its breath squeezed out of the lungs it possessed, it turned to a point behind the holy Primarch and muttered these words, “Twilight. Run”.
The noble Primarch spared a glance behind him, to view this daemon’s lies. What he saw was a small field, the ground behind him covered in small equine xenos both bleeding and crying for help or dead by his hands. One lone Xeno stood, of lavender coat and horned. This confused the noble Primarch; this daemon was playing tricks with something he had never seen. He turned to face his rival and the one thing standing between him and utter defense of his Father.
What he saw was a White alabaster horse from Ancient Terra. It had wings that spread to try to unbalance the Primarch from his task. Its face held a look of utter pain as the life seeped out of wounds left by His blade and the air was crushed from its lungs. Where was Ka’Bandha? Where was his arch foe? Sanguinius moved to push his hair out of his eyes but instead was greeted with the scraping of Ceramite upon Ceramite as his gauntlet met his armored helm he had not been wearing before.
The color of his armor had changed as well, from the noble Gold of his Chapter to a plain yellow.
The symbol of his Noble Legion had been replaced on his shoulder as well, instead replaced by a bleeding heart surrounded on two corner sides by checkerboards. He was no longer the Noble Primarch. He was no longer Sanguinius, Angel of the Imperium. But who WAS he?
The lone Space Marine fell to his knees, releasing the large Xeno from his grasp. It scrabbled away and looked upon him in a gaze of utter terror and fear. He held his head in memory. Who was he?
“I am… I am Garvel. Space Marine Sergeant of the… Lamenter Chapter’s… Fifth company”. The sudden noise startled the Xenos. He continued on however, “Servant of the Imperium… A loyal warrior for His holiness upon the Golden Throne, The Emperor of Mankind…Descendant of Holy Sanguinius… Primarch of the Blood Angels…”
“I have fought, bled, and… Died for my Emperor…” The last phrase seemed to rattle the Xenos, seeing how he was still breathing before him. “My brothers and Myself have fought all over the galaxy, destroying the Emperors enemies and baring the Imperial Creed upon our lips…” For the second time that day, hissing and clanking signaled the release of his helm. The warm sun once again fell upon his face, showing the tears that plagued the stone cut warriors face. “I am the last of the Chapter I know of… We were doomed to death… But still… We HELD THE LINE!” With his final words, the marine felt something he had not felt in over a thousand years. He felt the warm embrace of someone he did not know, someone he could weep with. The remaining Xenos held his armored form and cradled him like a child crying over a toy.
Garvel began to close his eyes for the first time in what seemed like the first time ever. A soft humming permeated from the Xenos, lulling him further into sleeps grasp. One last noise, one last bright light, then finally. Blackness.