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Dark Apostle Sirvos flexed his hand as he examined it for the billionth time. It was a miracle that he had survived the Lightbringers’ assault, though the memory of what had happened frightened him. Fear was indeed something he had never experienced, and it gnawed at him, constantly pressing down upon his shoulders in a reminder of his inability to escape it.
The Lightbringers had come like a tidal wave, crushing against Sirvos’ forces before he could react. Brothers whom he had known since before the Siege of Terra perished in the onslaught as gunfire tore through the Word Bearers ranks. Sirvos himself took a plasma blast to the chest and he fell to the ground, slowly bleeding to death amongst the corpses of his fellow Word Bearers.
At that point he hovered on the verge of consciousness, his world bleeding into blackness as death threatened to overtake him. He almost welcomed it, a final release from the trepidations of existence, but something deep within him prevented him from succumbing. He was a Word Bearer, and by the warp, he was going to survive, no matter the cost.
He pushed an armored corpse off himself with a mighty roar and stood face to face with a surprised Lightbringer. He launched a savage blow that forced the astartes to his knees, then ripped a fallen bolter from the ground, jammed the barrel in the marine’s mouth, and emptied a round into the Lightbringer’s skull, spraying the air with blood and gray matter.
Sirvos looked down at his chest and was surprised to find that the gaping hole had mended itself with glistening flesh. Bolter fire raked his body as the remaining Lightbringers turned on him, but Sirvos felt the rounds pass through his body harmlessly as he laughed with amusement. For a few brief seconds there was pain as his fingers elongated, sharp talons piercing his skin and emerging from his fingertips. He laughed again and leapt at the nearest Lightbringer, tearing out his throat and kicking the lifeless body away from him.
A Lightbringers sergeant sliced at Sirvos with a power sword, its surface crackling with blue energy as he caught the blade in his hand. He jerked the weapon away, opening the sergeant’s guard, allowing him to slice the marine’s chest open with his talons. The remainder of the squad closed in, unperturbed by their leader’s death, as they held their chainswords at the ready.
One brought his bolt pistol to bear, but Sirvos deftly removed the hand at the wrist and kicked the marine away from him. The next astartes ran towards him, but he broke the man’s arm with a vicious snap and threw him into two of his brethren. A chainsword dug into his shoulder, but he ripped his foe’s eyes from their sockets and drove his other hand into the man’s gut.
Within moments the marines fell, leaving only their captain, who gripped his long-handled axe tightly in both hands as he moved to avenge his fallen brothers. The captain swung at Sirvos’ torso, but he sidestepped the attack and struck outwards with his right hand, but the Lightbringer turned the attack aside with the haft of his axe. Sirvos smiled, happy that he had finally found a worthwhile opponent.
They traded blows for several minutes, neither one able to gain the upper hand, until Sirvos lost his footing and fell to the ground. The captain planted an armored foot on Sirvos’ right wrist and raised his axe to deliver a final blow. When Sirvos struck out with his left hand, the Lightbringer severed the arm at the elbow, eliciting a roar from the trapped Word Bearer. Sirvos gritted his teeth as fire ran up his left arm, but when he looked down he saw that his blackened blood had melted the Lightbringers’ power axe. Both Sirvos and the loyalist astartes watched in amazement as bone and flesh began to sprout from the open wound, until a new arm replaced the lost one.
Sirvos stabbed the captain in the ribs with his new limb, forcing him to crumble backwards, then rolled to his feet and rammed his right hand into the captain’s helmet. Sirvos drew his hand back, yanking the man’s brain from his skull, and laughed crazily as he gave in to the sudden urge to consume the fallen marine’s brains.
He turned his hand over again as the realization hit him: he was a god incarnate, and it was high time that he took his place as ruler of Palmyra. His entire existence had been a chain of events leading to this place and time, and he would strike down any who stood before him, whether he be Lightbringer, Ultramarine, or even Word Bearer. No longer would he answer to Carcerus, or even to Lorgar; a god answered to no one.
Member of the Fluffmasters Clan
Awesome plot twist! Way to go Lyran - they say a single enemy within your midst is far more dangerous than a million outside it.
Awesome (As always).
Originally Posted by Brett on Quidditch[ 1500pt. Chaos List, C&C! ]
-=W: 2 -D: 0- L: 3=-
Wow, that was really cool. He handed out a fair bit of ownage to that marine.
Ed Gein+Screech= Emperors' children
well, he is a daemon prince :p
Member of the Fluffmasters Clan