Visions of Darkness
Punctuation key: "Gothic Speech", +Binary Speech+, "Out-of-narrative speech"
The Berserker
****
Outside Cloudsdale city limits
"Fighting is an art."
Tellis slashed his lightning claws across an Ork's belly, and stabbed his other set into another Ork's chest.
"Some people will tell you it isn't. The DarkMech, the strategists, even the Warsmith will drone on and on about tactical proficiencies, angles, and distribution."
An Ork lunged for the Iron Warrior, but the Chaos Lord jumped to intercept the foe, slamming his spiked knee against the alien's chin with predictably gory results.
"Like you can really reduce the blood, panic, and skull-pounding fury of combat to a spreadsheet page."
A spinning slash tore a power klaw - as well as its attached arm - away from an Ork Nob before the hulking warrior could make any serious attempt to use it.
"Warfare is a cultural reflection of the species waging it, you see. For Eldar it's a hunt, with them playing the role of slippery prey as much as predator. Tau are cautious and calculating."
Tellis stabbed the Nob over and over again, his arms becoming a crimson blur as they punched at the dying warrior.
"Orks are kind of an exception. They're not about much else BESIDES war, so their military culture is less a reflection of their species rather than a complete picture of it."
Tellis backhanded a choppa that was descending toward his helmet, and then plunged his claws into another foe's head.
"And then we have humans. Varied, certainly, in our methods, and distantly interested in efficiency, if only to make sure we win."
Tellis blasted off from the ground into a high jump, and he aimed at a fleeing Loota after cutting his engine power. He landed on top of the alien scavenger like a meteor, crushing it.
"But for us, war is about the GLORY, you know? We're a race that builds void ships the size of freaking cities and can remake entire planets to suit our tastes, but we still act like the most noble and useful thing you can do is learn to shoot a gun. Think about that."
Tellis cut down two more Orks in short order, and then leapt at the back of another who was already fleeing.
"It's not because war is especially USEFUL, either. Hell, humanity's biggest problem is that we keep turning our weapons on each other. But the glory is instinctive. The nobility of combat is ingrained. Warriors are the artisans of destruction, and they've always had our awe and respect. Violence as an ideal never gets old."
The Ork struggled under the Iron Warrior's grasp, but Tellis held its wrists tightly from behind as he stood up.
"This is my art. The battlefield is my canvas, the enemy is my paint, and my weapons are my brushes. Every decapitation is like a painting. Every mutilated corpse is like a sculpture. Every melee is like a dance. Not ballet, though! It's like the loud, manly kind of dance. Like, with lots of stomping and stuff."
The Ork screamed as Tellis dug his boot into the alien's back, and then tugged sharply on its arms. A loud crack followed as the spine broke.
"Beautiful," Tellis said while he let his last victim slump onto the ground.
The sound of dozens off hooves gently tapping together came from above, and Tellis looked upward.
A full twenty Cloudsdale pegasi were sitting on a low-hanging cloud, overlooking the bloodshed. Some were city guards still clutching their spears in their mouths, while others were wearing high-class suits and dresses and otherwise had the trappings of nobility.
"Quite engaging, isn't it?" mumbled one stallion.
"Oh, yes. And very new-age. Future-age, even!" agreed the mare next to him.
"It speaks to me on a very primal level," sniffed another upper-class pony, "the pegasus warrior culture, long suppressed by decades of peace and Equestrian unification, may not have been so different."
One of the pegasi near the back frowned. "Thought-provoking, perhaps, but I found the presentation far too crass. Especially the aspect of having actual, living creatures killed right in front of me. It gives impact, yes, but does it not obscure the deeper philosophical ponderings with spectacle?"
"I liked when he stabbed the guy in the face," mused one of the guards, "that part was cool."
Satisfied with the critiques, Tellis glanced around him at the twisted metal remains of numerous warkoptas and trukks and the corpses scattered over the ground.
"There will now be a long intermission while we wait for enemy reinforcements to arrive and provide new materials for me to paint the ground with," said the Chaos Marine before he clashed his lightning claws together.
"Is there a refreshment stand open around here?" asked one of the pegasi, raising a wing.
"We're in an open field. There's grass everywhere. You're horses. Go nuts," Tellis replied as he walked away.
Tellis approached one of the downed warkoptas, staring intently at the slowly spinning rotors attached to a smoldering engine.
"I can do something with that, I'll bet," he mumbled to himself, hands on his hips, "like, turn it on, and then fling Orks into the spinning rotor. Yeeeah. But I'll need somebody to fix it, first."
He turned around and tapped his helmet, and his visor display flickered.
The words "active nerd sensor" flashed in front of his eyes, followed by a slowly turning Chaos Star.
Eventually it returned a reading.
"Seriously? The closest DarkMech geek is barely within three kilometers from here? That's just close enough to be useful while still far enough away to be inconvenient!"
Tellis was going to continue griping to himself, but his regional scan had detected two other energy signatures approaching as well. Although his armor systems hadn't classified them as nerds, the Chaos Lord took a moment to look at the locator runes and recognized them immediately.
"Rainbabe! Wassup?!" he hissed into his vox after he connected the link.
"Hey, Tellis! We found you!" came Rainbow Dash's voice over the vox system in his helmet.
In the distance, two gleaming armor suits began a descent toward the Iron Warrior. One curved into a fiery, high-speed dive, while the other merely dropped its thrust to begin a much slower landing.
Rainbow Dash gunned her impulse blasters as she reached the ground, blowing a furrow into the dirt and bringing herself to a shuddering halt.
Tellis raised a hand and made a fist, and Rainbow wasted no time in hopping up and slamming a boot into his gauntlet. "Hey, we missed you at the big battle, man!"
Tellis cocked his head to one side. "Big battle? There was a big battle?"
"Yeah, it... uh..." the pegasus took a moment to look around the area at the wreckage and bodies. "Well, I was about to say you missed all the action, but it looks like you found plenty of your own."
"Yeah, but still, I probably could have saved these chumps for later if I'd known there was a real battle going on nearby," Tellis grumbled while he checked his communications log, "there has to be some way to get my stupid suit systems to relay me all the COOL orders while setting it to ignore all the dumb, boring ones."
"Well, if you figure that out, lemme know. I wanna get in on that!" Rainbow Dash disengaged her helmet, letting the metal shell slide away from her face before she shook her mane out.
The second armored pony finally landed, falling softly onto her greaves with none of the fanfare of the first.
"Hey, Shy. How many kills you get?" Tellis asked immediately.
The other pegasus, who was expecting to be largely ignored, promptly recoiled. "K-Kills? Oh, no, I didn't do any fighting. I mostly helped take care of the wounded, actually."
Tellis considered that for a moment. "I see. So, how many of your patients kicked the bucket while you were trying to patch 'em up?"
Fluttershy cringed behind her helmet. "Uh... th-three of them... didn't make it."
"Well, we'll count that as three kills, then. Khorne cares not from where the blood flows and all," the Iron Warrior said as Fluttershy gaped, "not great, but it's a start. Keep it up."
Leaving Fluttershy with that extremely morbid thought, Tellis turned back to Rainbow Dash. "Anyway, if you wanna grab a cloud or whatever, we're just waiting for more greenskins to show up."
Rainbow arched an eyebrow, and then looked up at the pegasi watching from high above. Many of them were whispering to each other while staring at the new arrivals.
"Er... what's going on, exactly?" Rainbow asked.
"I've been finding new, socially acceptable ways to fetishize my job," Tellis explained with his arms crossed.
"What does THAT mean?"
"It means I do what I always do - kill things with an air of derailing, childish humor - but with an audience. Then I call it 'performance art'."
Rainbow Dash seemed impressed by this rationale. Fluttershy, less so.
"I'm, uhm, pretty sure that sort of thing is against the law, actually," she interjected timidly.
"You'd be surprised at how many of your laws don't apply to me," Tellis countered. Then he pointed up at one of the pegasus guards. "Right, lawpone?"
"You can do whatever you want!" the pegasus shouted back nervously. "Just don't hurt us, please!"
"See? Isn't it great?" Tellis laughed.
Rainbow Dash shrugged, her hefty shoulder pads rolling with the motion. "Well, that's cool, but if you're waiting for Orks you're gonna be here a long time. The main force already broke and ran."
"What?!" Tellis shouted, once again scanning his list of vox network messages. "Damn it! I still have half a show to do! What am I supposed to do for two more hours if there's nothing left to murder?!"
Most of the ponies sitting on the observation cloud started to sweat nervously, but one guard tepidly raised a hoof in front of him.
"Uhm, does that mean we can go home?" he asked.
"NO!" Tellis barked, whirling around and pointing as the pegasi cringed away. "You paid admission, you're getting a show! We're still on intermission time! Pipe down!"
"They paid admission?" Fluttershy asked, being slightly skeptical of the appeal of an extended, improvised gladiatorial match to the average pony.
"Well, not technically. Donations were voluntary," Tellis grumbled, a hand scratching the forehead of his helmet, "I'm new to dealing with currency. But the pegasi were all pretty generous after I told them to meet me here or I would be very disappointed in them. I gotta give them SOMETHING." He idly tapped a large pouch attached to his grenade belt that jingled with money.
"Well, I'm down with that!" Rainbow Dash said brightly. "The victory party doesn't start until six or something anyway. We can help you out!"
Tellis turned to her again. "What, like, as opponents?"
Fluttershy instantly vanished from sight as her cloak engaged.
Rainbow just snorted. "No way, dude. Just to put on a show or something. Like, maybe do some stunt flying?"
"Meh. I don't think so. Unless we turn it into a duel where we try to knock each other down mid-routine."
Rainbow Dash frowned. "Look, Tell, I want to help, but I also want to keep death out of my routines."
"But death is the THEME! This is art, Dash! You can't just go from ripping out the hearts of living, breathing creatures to doing colorful spins through the air! The critics will tear me apart!" the Iron Warrior complained.
"We will, too," said a mare up front with a set of opera glasses, "not to his face, of course, but the written review in the paper will be SCALDING."
"I need something shocking, bloody, entertaining, and LONG," the Raptor said, his flight pack puffing in irritable sympathy.
"Uhm, like, maybe, telling a story?"
Rainbow Dash, Tellis, and every pegasus watching swiftly turned toward Fluttershy. Or rather, the visibly empty spot in the air where Fluttershy's voice came from.
Fluttershy herself didn't even flinch away from the sudden attention, for once, since most of the others were glancing about in confusion and unable to make eye contact. She found the experience somewhat thrilling, actually.
"A story, eh?" Tellis mumbled, scratching at his vox piece. "That's a lot tamer and less active than I'd like, but my stories DO fit all the arbitrary criteria I rattled off just now."
"A story? Ugh, how pedestrian," grumbled one of the snobbier ponies above.
"The guy's an alien space soldier," countered a guard with a raised eyebrow, "I don't think we're going to hear anything 'pedestrian'."
Rainbow Dash sat down, making herself comfortable as she could in her power armor. "Make it a story with lots of action!"
"Yeah, I don't really have any stories WITHOUT a lot of action. That's not gonna be a problem," Tellis admitted.
Then he pointed to the pegasi waiting on the cloud. "All right, this is happening. Lower that thing down here and get comfy."
There were some murmurings of various intensity and disposition among the audience, but the pegasi began flapping their wings and pushing their improvised perch closer to the ground.
Fluttershy de-cloaked, appearing in a ghostly shimmer. "Oh, uhm, is this going to be a scary story?"
"Meh, not really." Tellis said as he boosted his vox volume. "This is a tale of blood, fire, and emotions metaphorically comparable to blood and fire. A tale about hate, anger, personal growth, and a really swell guy called Kharn the Betrayer. And it takes place on a distant planet called Anrose VI."
****
Anrose VI - a really long time ago, seriously you guys
"From iron cometh strength. From strength cometh will. From will cometh faith. From faith cometh darkness. From darkness cometh iron."
My head swam as I clutched the bottom of the gunship, hearing my brothers recite the Unbreakable Litany over the vox.
I didn't join them. I didn't care. The Unbreakable Litany was a tiresome relic of a long-gone era. Old soldiers clinging to a distant past when things were slightly less miserable and dangerous.
The Mark of Khorne shined on my shoulder pad, edged in brass. I could feel it through my armor, like a hot brand against my skin.
THIS was the future. Our future. We belonged to the Dark Gods now. The persisting habits of my Legion were absurd to me. Why cling to forsaken ideals of brotherhood and will? Why waste so much time going over supply manifests and studying engineering?
Khorne had a greater, simpler, and more glorious purpose for us, and my faith surged through me with every heartbeat.
My arm was restless, and every few minutes I would bang it against the gunship hull in frustration. This was taking too long! Where was the enemy?! Where were the targets?!
The gunship shook violently, and I heard the screeching noise of flak scratching across my armor.
Enemies.
My grip shook, but my body shook harder while I searched for the gun below. Gunfire. Attackers. Enemies. Blood.
I spotted the cannon.
Locate. Close. Break. Kill.
I had orders, but for the moment they were forgotten. I kicked off from the gunship and then dove toward the anti-air position. I was practically diving straight toward its mouth while it was shooting toward me, but I didn't care. Khorne didn't care. It was either my life or the lives of the gunners, and it's pretty hard to tell the difference between us after we're ripped up into little flesh chunks.
The ground started rushing up to meet me, and I kicked myself upright and hit the thrusters for a landing. I landed hard, and the shock rumbled up my bones and rattled my teeth. I could already taste blood, and I hadn't even seen my first foe.
Then I did see my first foe, stumbling through the dust wave I had kicked up and holding his laspistol ready.
He didn't get to fire it before I'd hit him. The chainsword wasn't even on, which pretty much made it a spiked metal club. I just straight-up smashed his head in like a cave Astartes.
I saw a second guy, and punched his face in. Literally. Next dude got the chainsword, but this time I remembered to trigger it first. Not sure if that makes it more or less brutal, but at least I was getting into the swing of things.
They were shooting at me now, the usual mix of lasbolts and the odd solid slug, but it was scattered and desperate. I was on top of them already. Six kills turned into twelve. Twelve turned into thirty. I moved from body to body, breaking and slashing and kicking.
"Did you... you know, say anything? While you were killing everyone? You usually say stuff."
Nah. I didn't really do that back then. I just sort of snarled a lot. Lame, I know.
The platform was clear. Everyone that had been manning the forward defensive position was a blood stain. I had to take a moment to get my bearings, feeling the catharsis of killing wash away the haze of anger.
"Command, Tellis here," I growled, "I've found and neutralized a defense gun in sector 24. It was defended. Now it's not."
"Good," barked the voice on the other end, "is the gun functional?"
"Maybe."
"Hmph. Very well. Proceed to your deployment point and engage the enemy."
I snarled something incoherent that had to do with blood, and my jump pack boosted me up into the air. Separated from my gunship - and the rest of the Raptors - I made my way across the battlefield in long hops while searching for more victims.
"Why didn't you just fly?"
I couldn't. Not back then. I didn't have my daemon armor yet. Heck, back when I ran with the 81st Grand Battalion, I didn't even have my own command. I was just a jump trooper with an above-average kill score and anger issues.
"Yeah, you seem pretty... different, now."
I searched the ground for enemies as I crossed the battlefield in long bounds. Anrose VI was a rocky planet, with the ground too hard and stony in most places to support typical plant life. That meant lots of natural hard cover, but not much to obscure vision from above. It made building defensive fortifications easy, though, and there were lots of them mixing it up with our vanguard.
I spotted a Rhino, and my vision went almost blurry with rage. It wasn't one of ours.
Yellow and green colors. Not sure what Chapter it was. But we had Space Marines on the field. I forgot everything else about the battle and leapt for the transport.
The difference was immediate. Two bolts crashed against my chest plate and a third one clipped the edge of my helmet during my approach. Then I was in arms' reach, but here too there's a world of difference between human soldiers and the post-human sort. My chainsword screamed as the teeth chewed through ceramite, spraying sparks and plating shards into the air.
But Space Marines don't just stand around while you kill them. By the time I had finished off the first one, three others were sticking their combat knives into me. I was already plenty angry, and, well, that just made me angrier.
Every swing was faster, stronger, and more furious than the last, bowling over Space Marines and gouging out heavy armor. I spun, kicked, slashed, and shot, moving like a whirlwind through the loyalist defenders.
After shooting out another enemy's throat, I turned just in time to avoid losing half my body to a plasma bolt.
That made me mad.
"You already seemed pretty angry, though."
That's kind of a running theme here, Dash.
There was a Sergeant moving to intercept me, his plasma pistol leaking smoke and a power sword poised to remove something important.
I practically dove for the guy and gave him a metal kiss.
"A what, now?"
Basically a headbutt, but involving more of the vox grille than the forehead. See, some Space Marines think they're bad enough dudes to run around a battlefield without a helmet. Iron Warrior doctrine pretty much forbids this for a lot of boring, practical reasons. Having a helmet on, however, DOES let you make your face into a bludgeoning weapon when the other guy isn't wearing one. That's pretty cool. And those plow-shaped grilles our Legion is so fond of are perfect for ramming someone's nose into their brain stem. But anyway, back to the action.
The Sergeant's sword strike whiffed completely as he reeled back with his face imploded. I took a shot at his leg to get him to stagger forward, and then completed the kill with a decapitation swing.
"And then you said a snarky one-liner, right?"
Nah. I think I snarled something about blood. I did that a lot more back then.
"Huh. You weren't much fun when you were younger, were you?"
I really wasn't.
So I finished up with the Space Marines, who were the most active resistance in the area. The fire teams had already torn down the fixed defenses, and were getting ready to redeploy.
"This is Tellis! Where are my next victims?!" I snarled into the vox.
"Tellis, run escort with Lancer Squadron until-"
"I asked for PREY!" I yelled. "Let some other dog play guard duty! This one wishes to hunt!" I was getting really into it now, and hearing the voice on the other end just made me angrier.
"The enemy forces are retreating to their secondary defensive lines, and they have a super-heavy covering their withdrawal. Lancer Squadron-"
"SILENCE!!" I roared. I was honestly tempted to hunt down that Lieutenant and disembowel him for his nonsense. I needed a distraction.
I set upon the corpses of the fallen, my anger still burning without further enemies to vent on. I hacked away at their heads, severing them and hurling them into a blast crater.
"Tellis, Lancer Squadron is moving to sector 17," snapped a new voice in my ear, "the enemy may launch a counter-attack in-"
I switched off my vox and continued with my work, locating and defiling the corpses of the fallen humans after I was out of Astartes skulls.
A squad of Iron Warriors had assaulted a bunker position nearby, and two of their number had fallen in the attempt, left behind on the ground as their brothers marched on to the next bulwark. They might have been dead, or merely wounded. I didn't stop to check.
Their skulls came next.
Blood was pooling in the crater once I had dropped in the final pair of offerings. It reached an unnatural boil, spilling over the edge of the crater.
"I hereby grant these skulls, these paltry lives drowned in terror and blood, to Lord Khorne!" I called out breathlessly, my fury briefly weakening in the face of fanatic devotion. "In your honor, will this world burn! A million skulls, and a million more! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!"
The crater erupted like a geyser, drenching me in boiling crimson. The pain of my wounds were washed away, and a rush of energy stronger and more complete than that of any mere chemical stimulant burned through me.
I turned toward the columns of smoke in the distance. There was still heavy combat going on, and I wasn't going to waste my time "guarding" others. I could see alerts coming up on my visor, but I ignored everything but the markers indicating enemy formations. I gunned my jump pack and leapt toward the fray.
****
Equestria
Tellis sighed, staring at the ground as the ponies around him listened intently.
"I was a different person, then. I ignored orders, abandoned my allies, and made stupid mistakes just to get to a fight more quickly."
Fluttershy bit her lip anxiously, wanting desperately to speak up but terrified to do so.
Rainbow Dash had no such fear. "Dude, you do all that now."
"Well, sure," Tellis agreed, "but now I at least have a good attitude about it. Back then I didn't even enjoy it!"
"I could tell," Rainbow mumbled. What she liked most about Tellis was the way he combined martial grace, a devil-may-care attitude, and a frankly juvenile sense of humor. True, he lacked anything resembling morals and his allegiance to Khorne was rather unpleasant, but the man Tellis described as his past self seemed to be little more than a disturbed animal, constantly enraged and embittered without any apparent reason.
"I fought and killed in the name of Khorne and the Iron Warriors, just like I do now, but it felt... different, back then," Tellis confessed, "I used to think that devotion to Khorne was devotion to death and fury. The death of my enemies, first, but ultimately mine, too. This life was supposed to be just a mad sprint to the end, while taking as many people with me as I could, and any diversion from that was a waste of time at best, and a blasphemy at worst."
Rainbow Dash cocked her head to the side. "So what changed?"
"Well, my outlook had religious fanaticism and genealogy behind it, so it was going to take a real miracle to turn me around." He looked up at the pegasi listening intently above him. "The Iron Warriors weren't the only Chaos troopers on this assault. A pair of Chaos warbands had called the Battalion in to help take down the planetary defenses around a garrison that had been supplying the Anrose system with troops and weapons and was in general making a nuisance of itself. One of the warbands was called the Crimson something-or-other; I don't really know much about them, just some freshly turned goons. I'd give them about a decade before they're wiped out. The other warband, though... they were the real deal. World Eaters. Berserkers devoted to Khorne who lay waste to planets and put cities to the sword just for the sake of killing. They're pretty hardcore. And they were led by the most brutal, savage, and amiable Berserker this galaxy has ever seen."
Fluttershy furrowed her brow. "Uhm, one of those things doesn't really fit," she pointed out.
"Heh, yeah. Let me explain..."
****
Anrose VI
"Blood for the BLOOD GOD!!" I roared, landing on the back of a planetary defense trooper and breaking him in half.
My chainsword roared as it swung back and forth across the fleeing soldiers, driving them on. My pistol bucked wildly in my hands while I put bolts into spine after spine.
Every one of my victims had their backs to me. All of them were running. The COWARDS! Like every other stimuli, this made me angry.
I didn't know how long I spent hacking through the general retreat, but by the time I was out of viable targets I had enough dead bodies to make another little skull shrine.
I was going to go ahead and do that when a voice came from behind me.
"Ah, Tellis. Not one for following orders, but your... passion for your craft leaves an impression."
I turned around, slightly less angry than before. It was Lord Rythus. Not our Grand Battalion's Warsmith, but still a big deal.
"New targets!" I demanded. I gunned my chainsword furiously.
Some Chaos Lords would have gotten all snippy about having anything demanded of them, even orders, but Rythus was pretty cool about it.
"Indeed. There seems to be a problem in sector 9," he explained, his hands resting on the hilt of his power maul, "that's where our artillery division was setting up. They've gone silent. We're not sure how the enemy reached them without our noticing, but you're to head to that area and sweep the sector for targets."
Search and destroy. Not my favorite mission - that would be assault - but it's okay. At least there's a serious presumption of enemy presence.
"That sector is close to where the World Eaters are operating, incidentally," Rythus continued, "do keep an eye out. You know how... unruly they get." He turned around and walked off toward his command transport. I jumped off in the direction of my target.
Devastation was everywhere in the aftermath of the assault. Dead bodies and scorched wreckage were stretched across the battle lines, and trains of Iron Warrior transports moved supplies and wounded back and forth across the rocky landscape. It had been a good battle, and the Battalion had performed admirably. All that concerned me, however, was finding more enemies.
My visor informed me that I had reached the area arbitrarily labeled sector 9. The artillery guns were easy to spot, having rolled up on top of a graded obsidian slope that would have made them an easy target for any anti-armor weapons.
I couldn't see any foes, which kept my mind calm enough to make a basic observation about the artillery tanks: they were still intact, and there was no smoke coming from them. That was odd for something that had been taken out by anti-armor fire. So it then stood to reason that they hadn't been ambushed by a heavy weapons team.
I growled angrily as I landed behind the disabled vehicles. Playing detective made me me mad.
Now that I could observe them closely, it was obvious what had happened to the tanks. Their crew hatch had been ripped open and the crew had been slaughtered while still inside. Two of the vehicles were still in firing position, having apparently been taken out before they realized what was happening. The third looked like it had been making a run for it when it had been caught and disabled in the same way.
I frowned, digging into the rarely-used part of my brain that used and analyzed tactics. Imperial troops had plenty of methods for dealing with enemy armor, but this wasn't one of them. I don't even know what kind of weapon had been used to breach the crew hatch; it kind of resembled chainsword damage, but chainswords couldn't tear through vehicle plating like this.
I growled some more and pounded a fist onto the nearest tank. I was wasting time, and whatever had done this was getting away. I launched myself up into the air, scanning the ground below. It was a crude way of searching for foes, but none of my auger feeds detected anything else nearby.
After several minutes of searching, boredom began to take the edge off my fury, and I started thinking clearly again. There WAS actually a unit nearby, but the IFF signum was clearly friendly. A World Eater.
I grunted irritably, but adjusted my course to intercept. It could have been a trap, which meant that my targets were waiting to ambush me. Or maybe the guy knew what was going on around here. Either way, it was a better use of my time than hopping around and hoping I landed on an opponent.
Granted, I didn't look forward to dealing with a World Eater. The guys are well-known for being twitchy, psychotic lunatics who can barely hold a conversation without hitting something.
"Uhmm..."
Yeah, yeah, I know. People in crystallex facilities shouldn't throw krak grenades. But still, those guys are BAD. Among the Iron Warriors my kind of crazy is an exception. The World Eaters literally jam electric spikes into their brains to make sure that they're too mad to think straight most of the time. They industrialized RAGE. It'd be awe-inspiring if it didn't end up crippling them as a fighting force half the time.
But anyway, I'm coming up on this lone World Eater, bounding through the air, and then I'm noticing that the area around him is covered in wide, sweeping blood stains and bodies.
Not a big deal, pretty much what I expected. That actually cools my head a little bit.
Then I notice something that nearly trips up my next landing: there are shredded power armor suits among the corpses. They're washed over with blood, so at first I think they're World Eaters, who wear red. But there was silver and gold peeking out between the fans of crimson. The helmet types were also quite distinctive.
All my anger returned with a vengeance. Strictly speaking, it didn't matter to me if other Iron Warriors died, and logically, I didn't know at a glance if these ones had been killed by the World Eater or killed by enemies and then painted over by random blood spray. It's not like I could get really indignant after using a few of my own brothers as sacrificial materials, either. But I didn't care. I'd already lost myself to the fury, and something was going to die. It was either going to be me or him, and Khorne didn't care which.
I started a long charge, leaping over the blood-slicked platforms between me and the World Eater Marine. I know he must have heard my jump pack, but he didn't turn around. He just kept walking forward, away from me, leaving crimson footprints behind him.
He was up high, on a partially shattered fortress wall littered with the bodies of defenders. I'm guessing that it probably would have been the artillery's first target, but whatever took out the big guns hadn't saved the chumps manning the wall.
I hit the top of the battlement, and then paused to give my jump pack a moment to breathe. Then I was airborne again.
I jumped over to a wall standing high above the battlement line and started running across it as my pack sputtered. I kicked off the wall a few seconds later, and then hit the pack again before diving at the World Eater, chainsword-first.
He was still facing away from me, leisurely walking along the battlement while twirling his chainaxe in his hand like some kind of cheering baton. I swear he was actually whistling to himself.
He turns at the last second, ducking under the swing before I hit the ground rolling. No biggie; guy's got some skills, but it was ridiculous to think he didn't know I was coming. I jump to my feet, bringing up my pistol.
Then I recognize the guy I just tried to jump. Not that I've ever met him before, but there's only one Space Marine who runs around a battlefield with his right arm in a proper power armor sleeve and his left arm bare except for some chains.
I had just tried to slay Kharn the Betrayer.
"Why's he called 'the Betrayer'?"
Well... you know how I'm considered crazy and dangerous among an entire army of crazy and dangerous people?
"Yeah?"
He was known as "the Betrayer" even among the thousands of other Space Marines that all turned traitor against our master.
"Ooooh..."
Right. He's not what you would call a team player.
So here I am, facing down the most famous Berserker EVER, pistol aimed at his face, and all I can do is gape.
Kharn stared at me for a moment, and then nudged his chin forward.
"'Sup?"
I'm not proud to admit it, but I was a little bit star-struck. I hadn't known at the time that Kharn was leading these World Eaters.
Of course, that meant I was pretty much toast. I was good, but I was pretty poorly armed at the time and Kharn was the best of the best. To him I would be a light work-out after butchering those soldiers and, presumably, our artillery crews.
But that was okay. Khorne cares not from where the blood flows. And dying to Kharn was a goddamn HONOR!
"Betrayer!" I roared, my chainsaw gearing up and my jump pack launching me forward.
He just sort of hopped to the side as I burst past him, slashing the air.
"Yeah? What's up?" he asked. He could have struck me in the back after I had charged past. Hell, he probably could have decapitated me mid-charge. But he didn't. His chainaxe, Gorechild, was still gripped loosely in his hand, held near the ground, as if he wasn't being attacked at all.
I turned my pistol on him, and he turned to keep his exposed arm out of the line of fire as my bolt rounds burst against his arm and shoulder armor.
"Is there a problem, buddy?" he asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.
"FIGHT ME, Berserker!" I bellowed, throwing down my pistol and gripping my chainsword with both hands. It wasn't actually out of ammunition yet, but I was just in that sort of mood at the moment.
"... Why?" Kharn asked, tilting his head to the side. "We're on the same team, pal."
"As were my brothers in iron, Betrayer!" I shouted. I couldn't believe this. What was this guy doing? Was he serious? "How many of our brothers and servants have met their end under your axe?!"
Kharn chuckled. He CHUCKLED at me. "Yeah, okay. You got me there. But you're on team Khorne, buddy! A fellow blood cultist! I don't want to fight you!"
I was floored. Kharn DIDN'T want to fight? He didn't want to kill? This made no sense!
And back then, things that didn't make sense made me angry.
"DIE, Betrayer!" I roared, blasting forward again.
I slashed and swiped and snarled and stabbed, but he hopped around each attack or calmly smacked it away with his axe. I was trying my level best to kill him, and Kharn wasn't losing his cool or even fighting back! This made me angrier.
He noticed, too.
"Are you okay, pal? Your form's sort of slipping up," Kharn asked.
"Hrarghblrg!!" I yelled back at him.
"Look, I get it. The nails are a bitch, right? You just get this out of your system, and then we can talk."
"Nails?"
Yeah, I'll get to that. At the time I was incandescent with rage, so I didn't stop to think about his comment.
It took several more minutes of me trying and failing to hurt Kharn - and sputtering angry nonsense at him - before he finally gave a grunt of irritation and disarmed me. Not, like, ripped off my arm, which would have been a damn TREAT by then, but knocked away my chainsword and then hacked the sword itself away at the hilt. It was just EMBARRASSING. I was that helpless before him.
And yet, he still wasn't KILLING me! Why not?
"Throne's skulls, what did they set your nails to? This isn't normal," Kharn grumbled before he swatted aside a punch and then grabbed one of my arms. My power armor squealed as I tried to overcome him, but it didn't work. Nothing worked.
He kicked out my leg, making me stagger onto one knee, and then twisted my helmet to face away from him so he could see the back of my head.
"... Wait, do you guys do it differently? Where are your psycho-surgical enhancers?" He sounded confused.
I writhed and struggled under his grip. "I bear no such devices!" I proclaimed, angrily. "My hate is pure! Not agitated by some mere machine, like a pit animal spurred on by the prod!" It was true. The Iron Warriors put a lot of stock in clear thinking and tactics, so devices that effectively lobotomize their soldiers aren't very popular.
"... Holy SHIT, man," Kharn said, his voice halfway between awe and disappointment, "I've met Bloodthirsters with a happier disposition than you. You're CRAZY."
"I will undo you, Betrayer! In Khorne's name, one of us shall perish this day!" I screamed, trying to twist out of his grip.
"Seriously. Buddy. This is too much," Kharn explained, suddenly letting go and backing away, "my entire Legion practices jamming hot neuro-reactive spikes in our brains in order to make us that pissed off. And you're this bad normally? That's not healthy."
I sputtered something incoherent as I got to my feet. But I was unarmed, and Kharn still wasn't fighting me.
"So, what's up? Why are you so mad?" he asked.
I gaped behind my helmet. What kind of a question was that?
"I'm filled with the fury of Khorne!" I bellowed.
"Heh, heh... fury of corn..."
YES I GET IT HIS NAME IS A PLANT CAN WE STOP MAKING THAT JOKE NOW?
Anyway, Kharn didn't seem impressed by my explanation.
"Brother, I KNOW the fury of Khorne. Don't try to pin that temper on him," the Berserker chided.
"It is in His name that I slaughter the foe! I glorify the Blood God with my rage as I seek ever more skulls for His throne and lifeblood for His ocean!"
"Okay, fine, but you don't have to be a dick about it," Kharn reasoned.
I didn't really have an answer to that. I just sort of stood there, leaning over as that sentence bounced around in my head.
"I mean, some of us DO," Kharn continued, pointing to his head, "the butcher's nails basically torture us into being enraged killing machines. But I'll let you in on a secret: that doesn't really impress Khorne all that much."
"... Wh-What?" for the first time in a long while, I wasn't angry. Just confused. Usually being confused just made me angrier, but... somehow I knew this was important, and I let my guard down.
"You probably think you're being some kind of religious exemplar by being mad ALL THE TIME, but it actually doesn't work that way," Kharn explained, walking up next to me and slapping his free hand onto my shoulder pad, "Khorne doesn't even care if you or your opponent is the one to die; do you think He hands out extra Chaos Points if you're pissed off all the time?"
"I... I didn't... uh..." all I could do was mumble in confusion. I hadn't thought of it exactly like that, but it kind of sounded right. I DID think I was honoring Khorne by responding to every input with anger.
"You're allowed to actually enjoy yourself!" Kharn said, gesturing with his axe to the bodies littering the battlements behind him. "Yes, you're trying to kill people, but there's no rule that says you can't have fun while you do it! If anything, Khorne might appreciate it!"
I jerked my head back. "He... would?"
"Sure! Do you think He WANTS His cultists to be bitter sad-sacks every hour of every day? You think He doesn't enjoy murder?"
I chewed on my lip as I thought that over. I had probably done more thinking on theology in the last five minutes than in my entire life up until that point. "Well, maybe... but I always thought of it as sort of a mild release from His all-consuming rage."
"So you think a Chaos God spends his timeless eternity completely miserable, seeking small windows of peace with the distractions of intergalactic blood sport?" Kharn chuckled. "Hey, maybe. But it seems like a pretty lousy way to spend immortality."
Kharn turned toward the distant horizon, his hand still on my shoulder pad. We spent a minute in silence: him, staring at the distant columns of smoke, and me, staring at the ground and thinking.
"You know what I like about Khorne?" Kharn said suddenly.
"I like mine popped, with salt and bu-"
I SWEAR ON THE EYE I WILL PUNT YOU RIGHT BACK TO YOUR RIDICULOUS SKY CITY.
"... Sorry."
"He's the only one of the Four that really GETS mortality," Kharn explained.
I once again gave the Betrayer my full attention.
"The other three big Gods may praise and reward martial success, but they only see it as an act of effort devoted to them. Some loser out of trillions dies facing a Slaaneshi champion: who cares? Well, the champion worked hard at it, so might as well give him a daemon orgy or a second phallus or something. I mean, that's just good business sense."
"Wretched whore-sons," I growled.
"Heh, yeah. Those guys suck." Kharn chuckled, and then cleared his throat loudly. "But the point is: the death doesn't really matter to any of the Gods except Khorne. He's the only one who understands what it MEANS to end a life, and risk one's own. That's also why he's the only one that actually enjoys having his servants die for him. To the other Gods, a dead cultist is pretty much a broken toy; they toss it aside and move on to the next one. If they really LIKE the toy, they might even revive him. But none of them care that their devotee just gave up the only existence they've ever known for them. Only Khorne honors the end of the life as well as the life itself. Only the Blood God recognizes that life is valuable BECAUSE it ends. That meaning usually gets kind of lost among the creed of killing as many people as possible in a suicidal frenzy, but still, it's there."
Then Kharn patted my shoulder pad. "To die is to honor the Blood God. But to make it a worthy offering, that death should have meaning. One way to give it meaning is to devote yourself to Khorne and consign your skull to His throne."
"Already done that part," I mumbled.
"Obviously. Another way is to live a life that matters. Nobody benefits from you being a miserable jerk all the time. It doesn't help you out any, Khorne doesn't care, and it doesn't make you any friends in the barracks."
I looked down at the rubble far beneath the fortress wall. More mangled bodies laid there among the debris. Each one of them nothing more than an anonymous victim on some random garrison world. Killed and tallied, and treated by both sides as nothing more than a number on an after-action report.
"How do I live a life that... matters?" I mumbled, still staring down the wall.
"An old question, indeed. But us Khornates have a pretty reliable answer." He took his hand off my shoulder pad. "Kill a lot of motherfuckers. But for Khorne's sake, have FUN doing it."
Then he slashed through my jump pack and kicked me off the wall.
****
Anrose VI - command center
"Lord Rythus, all sectors have reported in," said an Iron Warrior Lieutenant after he dropped to one knee, "the Septarius and Cordova defense complexes have fallen. The city is ours, and this system's primary garrison is broken."
"Good," Rythus mumbled as he stared at a number of charts laid out over the center of a strategium table. The bodies of Imperial Guard and Planetary Defense officers laid in crumpled heaps on the floor.
"The warbands have turned to the outlying settlements for plunder and slaughter, Lord."
"That's fine. We've performed our service to them and they are in our debt. Let them be," Rythus commanded.
"Indeed, Lord." The Iron Warrior hesitated, and then stood up.
"Was there something else?" asked the Chaos Lord.
The Lieutenant again paused, but then spoke. "It is nothing of great consequence, but we never did find out what dispatched our artillery squadron in sector 9."
"Ah, yes. Did Tellis ever come back?" Rythus asked, turning to face his subordinate.
"Tellis was found buried in a pile of rubble... alive, but wounded," the other Marine mumbled.
"I see. And this disturbs you?"
The Lieutenant took a long pause while he looked up into the Chaos Lord's visor. "I was there when he was dug out, Lord. He was... laughing. He was laughing the entire time."
"...... What?"
****
Equestria
Fluttershy stared down at the ground after Tellis finished, frowning behind her helmet.
"How did you know about that meeting and what they said if you weren't there?" she asked, looking up at the Iron Warrior.
Tellis made a sound halfway between a groan and nails against a chalkboard. "Creative license, Shy! This is still an art program! Geez!"
Fluttershy quickly ducked and apologized, but Tellis ignored her and wrapped up his tale.
"So that's the story of Anrose VI, and of my growth from an embittered, disturbed shock trooper to a rather happy, disturbing shock trooper!"
There was some polite applause from the pegasi above as they clapped their forehooves together. Rainbow Dash didn't seem satisfied, though.
"Wait, hold on, but how did you get here? Weren't you with that other army?" she asked.
"Yeah, well, that's kind of a funny story. And one without a lot of action, so I'm not going to go into detail, here," Tellis admitted, "it turns out that a lot of the commanders in my Grand Battalion actually LIKED my previous attitude. Or at least, they found it easier to deal with than my new one. It doesn't make sense to me; if I ignore a command because I'm snarling about blood or because I just think the orders are boring, either way the order isn't being carried out. But it makes a difference to the Chaos Lords, I guess. I was actually slated to be executed before my Battalion met up with the 38th Company and decided to sell me, instead. And I've been annoying old man Solon ever since!"
He clapped his hands together, which created a rather obnoxious clanging noise. "All right kids, show's over! Remember to check your seat for any personal belongings before exiting the cloud! Also remember that I'll be debuting my holiday program 'The Skullcracker' in about a month, just in time for Hearth's Warming! Bring the entire family! Or I'll corner you after the show and demand to know why you didn't!"
The spectator pegasi wasted little time in flying off, many of them mumbling to each other about the "performance" they had just been released from. Soon, Tellis was alone with Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.
"Well, that was pretty cool," Rainbow Dash said as she jumped up into a hover, "I like you way better as you are now, though."
"Now, don't get all mushy on me," Tellis said with a snort, "I'm still a violent, evil murderer. The difference is that now I enjoy it."
"Well, that's..." Rainbow Dash trailed off, uncertain as to whether that was actually a good thing. Then she shook her head. "Whatever. We've got a party incoming, and we're miles away from the base!"
"Yeah, I'll actually have to give you a rain check on that," Tellis said, sounding disappointed, "I promised Fluttershy I'd help move her things into my place."
"I, uh, don't really remember that," Fluttershy pointed out, "... at all."
"Well, I kind of made the promise in my head. But still. I PROMISED. That's important." Tellis jumped off of the ground, and his flight pack started a slow burn as he too took to the air. Fluttershy followed, still mumbling anxiously underneath the low hum of her flight pack.
"Wait, you two are rooming together in Ferry D? Why?" Rainbow Dash asked.
"I actually didn't know about this until this very moment," Fluttershy admitted timidly, "why AM I living with you, Mister Tellis?"
"Because we're roommates," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Fluttershy sighed wearily.
"... Sounds legit to me," Rainbow concluded as the trio changed heading toward the fortress, "so anyway, Tellis, I've gotta tell you about this new move I created! I call it the 'Rainbow Buster'..."