//------------------------------// // Past Love and New Hate // Story: A Lamenter goes to Equestria // by McCrowley //------------------------------// The relentless sound of shovels could be heard throughout his sleep. He was back on some planet, fighting alongside his Mortal counterparts. The Imperial Guard may have been squishy in his and many others eyes, but their work was undeniable. This particular segment of the guard was a fairly stoic bunch, but then again you would be too if you were called the Death Korps. Their shovels pierced the dirt in one monotonous pattern. Stab, scoop, chuck. Stab, scoop, chuck. They were preparing their trenches against the enemy. An enemy whose smell drifted across the entire continent, whose presence tortured the guardsmen and their weapons, whose war cries sounded more like garbled arguing. But these were men of Kreig. They felt no fear. Above them floated the spirit of the Garvel and further still an Imperial battleship broadsiding a Chaos Cruiser. This was the battle for the Cadian Gate, something The Lamenter’s did not participate in, but something every Imperial remembers. Garvel floated in a spectral form above the growing trench works, his mind in a state of dreams but his soul left to wander. He saw the growing hordes of Daemons and Heretics on the horizon, as did his fellows below. The feelings he felt left him not sad, but angry. He was somewhere else, on some forgotten Xeno world in the midst of probably a dungeon or possibly gallows or the headsman’s block. He began lamenting his passing once more when the hordes began their charge. A soul shattering screech and roar tore through into the hearts and minds of all men present. Vast lights of friendly fire streaked past Garvel into the oncoming horde, tearing open Nurglites, Khornates, and Tzeechtians alike. But they did not halt. Millions of men and daemons alike streamed constantly towards the Imperial lines as did their fire. Hundreds of Kriegsmen fell before the bastardized forms of Old Imperial Weapons. Lasguns and Bolters fired from both sides, autocannons raked across the lines, and Garvel was locked in the midst, unable to perform with his fellow men of the Emperor. Garvel walked the lines of the Guardsmen for quite some time, the trenches spanning easily a few miles. He watched the faces of the loyal men before him, stalwart and ready for war. Gasmasks on every face, sparing them from the nauseous smells. Death claimed many this day, his scythe reaping a healthy toll upon the zealous soldiers. Blood sprayed here in there from where soldiers were already in close quarters with the faster Khornates. The roaring of chainaxes became a cacophony in his ears. It takes approximately three Kriegsmen to take out one Space Marine as he found out. But none of that mattered. He continued his lonely romp through the battlefield, sparing glances occasionally at the lines of both of the forces. Members of the Eccliarchy pocketed the forces of the Guardsmen, boosting their already zealous fervor, while Dark Apostles did the same for the heretics. They spewed the same lines of power and honor while promising peace in the afterlife. But the end of the lines began to approach, and with them, a dark truth. Soldiers and Daemons of Slaanesh had finally joined the fray in the form of a pincer formation in true Slaaneshi fashion. From the rear. The vast hordes of scantily clad men, women, and some combination of both genders ran across the open fields behind the line. Upon instinct Garvel reached towards the nearest Ally to try and warn them of the impending force. Who he touched appeared to be a young Cadian, fresh out of boot camp, and probably the last surviving member of his regiment. The spectral hand of the Marine passed through the sol- boy, but seemed to have an effect. He had just enough time to turn around and scream as Daemonette’s blade sliced clean through his skull. He watched. He simply watched. Guardsmen after guardsmen were slaughtered before the unending torrent of debauchery and heresy as they were squished by the opposing forces. The Blood God would feast tonight. Suddenly, a cold armored gauntlet wrapped around Garvel’s pauldron and yanked him to the ground. What stood before him was surprising to say the least. What appeared to be a female Noise Marine. Her cold eyes pierced Garvel’s own, their cerulean shade enticing. She gazed long and hard before driving her bayonet in his gut. She looked surprised when it passed complete through him without even a spray of blood or piercing of the armor. Once again upon instinct, Garvel attempted to grasp ahold of something on her armor to pull himself up and here down and found that he could. They both stumbled to the ground in a tirade of fists and kicks. His spectral form forgotten, Garvel returned blow for blow. They continued like this for some time, other Slaaneshi’s beginning to form a circle and watch their comrade squirm under what they assumed to be a drug induced hallucination. They writhed upon the ground more and more until she was finally able to pin Garvel to the ground with the tip of her blastmaster under his chin. “What are you, Loyalist?” Her cracked voice sounded, her vox speakers making her voice sound technologically enhanced. A smile crept upon his lips as he felt the embrace of half sleep begin to flee, and with a tone befitting an inquisitor said, “Your doom, Traitor.” And with that he vanished. The beds couldn’t take the bulk of what appeared to be alien, so mattresses were laid down for him upon the ground. No heart monitor could be placed around his arm, but the sound of his breathing was enough. Many ponies called for his outright execution. Some called for his imprisonment at least. But no. Upon insistence from Celestia, he was given a place to stay at the Canterlot General Hospital. His face alone drew many a pony to visit. But the argument still raged on between the Royal Sister and her advisors within the royalty and upper class. About seven guards lost their lives in the span of ten minutes, another ten were severally wounded. Many of those guards had parents in the nobility, and as such their concerns were heard by both of the sisters constantly. Celestia sighed inwards. These nobles had been before her for the last three hours pleading for their case. While she felt sympathy for the guards, she being there when they died. But that was just it! She was there! She too had her throat nearly ripped out and personally saw the carnage. What she needed now was a cup of tea and possibly a neck brace. But here she was, being the good monarch like she had been for nearly two thousand years. Needless to say, patience was at its maximum. “All we’re saying, your Highness, is that under Equestrian LAW,” The last word strained and paused for emphasis, “That… THING! Should be executed!” Agreement sounded from the crowd surrounding the pompous stallion. He had literally stated laws word for word, laws SHE had helped write with the founding citizens! Gods above was she bored… Her head craned towards the location of the hospital, half expecting to see the Warrior charging out of the hospital in a rage. Thankfully, no sight et entreated her eyes. But the distant setting of her sun was a welcome view, bringing a smile to the old Monarchs face. She left her throne and walked towards the windows, much to the chagrin of the assembled. “My decision is final, Sir Knox.” Her tone sincere yet holding a much colder undertone, “And I shall defend it. I saw that… Thing and abhor it as much as you. He nearly KILLED me!” The crowd found that the floor tiles were excellent in this light. “But… Inside his tone, there was something I recognized.” She turned towards those assembled, “And I’ll be damned if I let that happen under my watch again! Do I make myself clear?” Various heads of varying colors nodded their heads, “Good. Now, if that is all, I must retire. The night court will be open for any who wish to voice their concerns to my sister.” The trot back to her quarters was a quiet one. Not a servant disturbed her, no guards followed her every step, and no nobles berated her to her door like the previous nights. She felt content, a small smile forming on her face. Removing the royal wear was a time home skill of hers, allowing the pieces of precious metals to clink into their cases to be polished for the next day in unison. As the moon rose above the horizon and the sun finally waned, Celestia allowed herself to relax. She paced once again to the window, intent on seeing the beautiful night sky her sister painted every night. “Like I said Luna…” She turned to the bed and began to lay down, “Never. Again.” She choked out with a sob.