:eight_pointed_black_star: Legio Damnata - chapter 0: Call to Chaos!

♤ author

• j. placedown

♤ genre

• dark fantasy

• grimdark

• horror

♤ trigger

• gore, death

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A gathering point was set. An undivided chaos world. The call was from exalted sorcerer Amespekh to speak of the crusade In the Hexis sector, one of sectors of the Imperium secundus, and their tasks.

All were invited to the surface of the world, a grand meeting chamber on the surface to discuss the war plans. The first planet was Hexis b6 to free for their Patrons by the Imperium followers. But the first thing they needed to do was discuss how to break the blockade in the system. It was comprised mostly of the ships of the battle sisters and imperial guard, and reinforced by some dark angels ships. But this would wait as the exalted sorcerer awaited the arrival of the forces.

The bearer of the Word

One of the first people yo arrive to the grand meeting chamber was a Word Bearer, A Dark Apostle to be specific, Darad Tal. His armor had word scribbled onto his shoulder parts, some parts of his armor marked with one of the Gods mark, like his arms with marks of Khorne and legs with marks of Slaaneesh, he also had paper with words of chaos on him and even a purity seal, no doubt a sign of mockery to those worshipping the corpse emperor.

In one of his hands he held a Crozius and in the other a book, he approached the exalted sorcerer and greeted him.

"Greetings Sorcerer, as per your request I am here and ready to help in any way I can, to make sure the meeting goes smoothly and not break into infighting." Darad said to the Sorcerer, his voice showed the kind of charisma that was normal in the Dark Apostles, as he let his Crozius rest on his shoulder, he then stood next to the Sorcerer and waited with him for the rest of the people to come to the meeting chamber.

The Cobra

From the Cobra class destroyer now tainted and converted to serve chaos came three arvus lighters, aircraft intended to carry cargo from ship to ship or planet to ship but two of these carried twelve heavily armed and armoured cultists meanwhile the third one, the leader carried much more prescious cargo, the cult leader acharn and his four guardians.

It wasn't long that the arvus' took to reach the meeting place and acharn along with his guardians entered the meeting chamber, acharn's skin looked charred and ashen and he was seven feet tall, his right arm was very clearly mutated, his fingers ended in claws, his arm was covered in tiny spikes and his left eye was a marble which when looked into shows the roiling immaterium, his hair was long and snow white and he had a crown of six black horns. "The pack of destruction answers the call, sorcerer."

He quickly stood to the side of the table his guardians standing behind him, each one was armed differently, one clearly a sorcerer though non of their skin could be seen under the cloak and glove, another was large carrying a hunk of shaped metal, likely a follower of khorne, the third held two daggers and they wore a full body latex outfit with a symbol of slaanesh, the last had a somewhat bloated stomach and seemed very sickly likely serving nurgle his sword If it could be called so was rusted to all hell.

Judge of the Despoiler

Deep in the reaches of the Hexis Sector, the Repulsive-Class Grand Cruiser ‘Eternal Sentencing’ drifted along its bloody path to the site of a Chaos gathering. At its helm, its Lord stood command over the slave-servitors built into the ship. These servitors obeyed the Judges will.

That Judge, was Skorvare. Adorned in the black and gold of Abaddon’s Black Legion, Skorvare was a Chaos Lord known for many things… his helmet having 6 glowing green eyes protruding from it. Each one looked about the room and the reaches of space. Chaos ships had gathered, and it was time the Judge made planetfall.

”Can this rabble really serve the Despoiler?“ One of Skorvares Champions spoke as Skorvare scoffed at his Chosens words.

”If Abaddon Wills it, all will kneel before him. Come, it is time we ed the ‘rabble’…” Skorvare says with a chuckle, turning back as he grabbed his Thunderhammer. The screams of souls long trapped inside could be heard as the eyes and forehead markings of the skull glowed with hatred upon his touch. The chosen chaos marines along the entrance would quickly follow their Lord.

Skorvare would make planetfall and the Sorcerer in the chamber. The dark words of his book whispered to all nearby as he kept it chained to his waist and behind his cloak. Better to not let it distract the others. ”An Exalted Sorcerer? So this is sure to be fun.”

Sons of Sek Commander

From the ships of the gathered fleet a Valkyrie ship flew towards the planet, markings of the Traitor Guard regiment, Sons of Sek, soon the Valkyrie landed on the planet, from the ship came 13 people, 10 normal traitor guard, 2 traitor guard with tempestus Scion equipment, both normal guardsmen and scions for clasps in the form of hands closing over their mouths, the hands were hands of their fallen enemies and the leader of this regiment, Tyvas, wearing officers uniform, flak armor, he had a short military buzzcut brown hair and green eyes, which were glowing due to mutation, he looked to be around 43 standard terran years, to further show his mutation was beyond cosmetic, right arm seemed to be more bigger than the rest of his body, even having two bone blades sticking out of his forearm. For weapons he had a chainsword and autopistol and unlike his men, he had images of hands tattooed around his mouth.

Soon the group entered the meeting chamber in a professional manner, while the normal guardsmen stood at attention by the doors to the chamber, two with Scion equipment followed Tyvas, as he looked at people currently present, all Chaos Astartes and one mortal and one thing he couldn't really put a name to it. He soon with his bodyguards approached the Sorcerer, before he gave a salute.

"Uett-Magir Tyvas with Sons of Sek, reporting for duty and at full readiness, my Lord." Tyvas greeted the Sorcerer who called the meeting, as he was interested in hearing the reason for this meeting.

The Master

The early arrived one was a frightening sorcerer looking like a kind of shaman because of their horned skull helmet, human bones as thinkers; it promised anything good for their warmaster and warband itself. Master Zoey had only chaos undivided symbol on her belt and her gloomy staff of possession she liked to bring and her walking was stopped once met her terrible leader Darad. "It's a pleasure to be in front of your mighty presence, how can I may use my skills for your....gracious wishes? Just...It's evident with sacrifices.."

"it's so much important for my person to service you and, specially our Gods." It was hard to tell she was grinning or serious for the elmet she was used to wear and nobody else had never seen her face behind the skull. She grinned a bit but she was dying to see despair, bones and blood again as she was used to meet her malevolent 'friends" again.

"It has begun...for me, I see...my lord...pain among our eyes, not our as we are pure pain itself...I see...women, children...screaming in my hands, isn't it?" said her trembling her strange staff as she would send some sygn of desolation in the air.

Iron Within, Iron Without

It would not take long for word to reach Khyr about the mass gathering of Warbands. He received his invitation through one of his advisors and right hand man, Narik the Unbroken. Khyr would rise from his mechanical throne and give the order, it was time for he and his subjects to gain further spoils and glory.

The Warsmiths chosen fleet would emerge above the planet, 5 vessels strong. 1 Battle Barge, his Flagship, that had now become a creature of the warp in of itself yet still bound to his will. It once went by the name of The Desolate, now it's name is known only to the Warsmith itself. The other vessels were a Devastation Class Cruiser, 1 Iconoclast Destroyer and 2 Idolator Raiders. They would serve as a suitable battle force for this mission. Should the need arrive, there were more vessels he could call upon to aid him. Regardless, Khyr would descend down upon the chosen world via a Thunderhawk and enter the chamber of this Sorcerer with his entourage of 5 Tyrant Terminators, armed with combi Bolters, chainfists and cyclone missile launchers. Khyr liked to be prepared for everything, so he brought his own defense against Psykers in the form of a Sorcerer of his own and a coven of 5 enslaved Psykers to help amplify their power. It may not hold off the Exalted Sorcerer for long should things go wrong, but they'll hopefully be enough to allow his Tyrants to blast the foul bastard apart. "I've come as requested, and will give my strategic ."

Khyr was an average height for an Astartes, and was clad is a bulky, up armoured variant of Power Armour. Clawed boots to brace himself and anchor down, a servo arm attached to his power pack in order to either move debri, hold items or crush a throat if needed. His helmet, a Mk III helm complete with crest, his right shoulder also being Mk III with the Iron Skull of the IVth Legion painted on it. His left shoulder was more modern looking and had a cog like shape to it

As for weapons, he wielded a Combi Melta and Seigebreaker Mace, both weapons more than capable of either shooting, blasting or crushing his foes.

Death, Disease, And decay

Answering the call came a plagued ship of the deathguard. A dropship of course. Out of it left a disgusting man in terminator armor. He was made to stand away from the others.

He spoke in his mucus filled voice, "I am here to serve lord Abbadon. I am to believe you act as his voice?" He spoke, and then coughed. His bloated form oozing diseased white and black puses from the many holy diseases he contained.

"If you are..." He slurped up some of the disgusting ooze that seeped from his mouth and swallowed it, "...Then the Plague Lords serve you..." as he finished, a pus and blood filled boubo exploded on his back, spilling diseased blood and pus all over the wall, but leaving the lord of Virulence unscathed.

Arrival of the Forgesworn

Comparatively late was the arrival of the three ships from the Forgesworn warband, two of them being warped versions of the Adeptus Mechanicus Cruisers. Yet even those impressive ships were no more than escorts for the third ship, a true flagship, a Warped battleship of the Retribution class, once known as the Everbright, it was the trophy the Warband took after wiping out a marine Chapter that it belonged to.

Shortly after their arrival three Stormhawks accompanied by a wing of Hell Talons made their way towards the ground. The Hell Talons circling the meeting point at a bit of a distance while the Stormhawks landed close by, the first one opened their ramp, releasing two Cataphractii Terminator's accompanied by four possessed, mutated marines kept in chains held by the Terminators, additionally twelve skitarii left the ship. After that the two other Stormhawks opened their ramps, out of one a significantly larger than average Marine walked out, a mixed bag of Cataphractii, Indomitus and Tartarus armor along with furs and chainmail made up his armor. Two Mechadendrites came out where his right shoulder should be, the arm replaced with a warped mechanical creation not ending with a hand but instead a plasma cannon. His left arm however was still there, the Cataphractii pattern powerclaws cracking as electricity arced between the individual claws.

Out the other Stormhawk came a mechanical monstrosity, a heretek, large armored spider legs used to walk around made up the lower part of his body, three pairs of mechanical arms and just as many mechadendrites pretended from the bloodstained black robes that his the grotesque body of the heretek while a dozen green glowing lenses could be called his eyes.

The group made its way towards the others, the Possessed, bloodthirsty beings they were tried their best to lunge forwards to attack anyone they saw only for the chains to stop them and the Terminators to pull them back.

"The Forgesworn have arrived Sorcerer, we heeded the call but are disappointed in what we see, bar the Iron Warrior and yourself the others seem of little worth, a rotting follower of decay and a preaching word Bearer are atleast still more valuable than mortals." The large Terminator said, a quick nod towards the Iron Warrior following his speech.

Meantime the warp glowed with colourful light, casting its horror and beauty upon the hull of the ship. The twisted ancient armour of the legiones astartes strike cruiser didn't glistened as it once did when it was coated in white and gold paint with a hint of blue.

It now loomed like a broken dead thing, black and red, with protruding metallic objects emerging from its sides like exploding icicles. It was adorned with a gaping maw upon its prowl, the symbol of the most brutal legion of old, The World Eaters. However, in the center of the maw was a new decoration, the Eye of Terror. The Eye Of Horus.

The Fulminator emerged into realspace, its corrupted engines howling a purple fire as unrealistic tentacles tried to grab the ship back into the warp, only to fail.

The ship was hardly resembling what it once was. Being a bit larger than a battlebarge, the strike cruiser had grown in size, pieces being hurriedly and crudely thrown onto it.

The ship was once belonging to the 12th legion during the great crusade, commanded by its human captain; Anita "Blackblood" Tane and its Astartes commander, Gör "The Dog". Now it serves the New Warmaster. Abaddon, the despoiler. Under the command of Chaos Lord of Khorne; Mor, who assumed command of the vessel after the departure of Anita and Gör.

Serving chaos for 10,000 years, The Fulminator has earned its reputation of terrorising much larger ships as it once did during the great crusade. Though its tactics have stagnated of course due to the missing tactician.

"We have emerged from the warp, my lord"

A thrall gurgled out a sentence as he was staring at the red screen.

The Bridge of the Fulminator hasn't changed much since the days of the heresy, though the same cannot be said for its decorations. In the center was a small elevated platform, where now stands a mountain of helms. Mark 2, Mark 3, Mark 4 and 5. All from the loyalists of istvaan 3. A memorial or a trophy, the meaning has been lost to time.

Mor stood infront of the pile with his back turned against it. His eyes made for crying, his face made to scream. The Butcher's nails sang in the back of his head idely.

He was wearing a verity of armour pieces. Mark 2 breastplate, Mark 5 pauldrons, Mark 4 legs. His armour was coated in the sort of the black legion and the red of the world eaters.

"My lord, the landing crafts are ready to depart"

Another thrall groaned out, his eyes having been pushed out of its sockets to be forever staring at the screen, his spine gone, replaced with a tube that lead straight to the ceiling.

"THE REBELLION WAS A LIE!"

Mor screamed out, roaring in anger and genuine sorrow. The figure infront of him didn't move an inch, it's towering presence suring any astartes of chaos.

"It failed"

Said the figure, said Abaddon the Despoiler.

"Because my father was weak."

Abaddon had given Mor a choice that day. Wallow in self pity and depression, continue to feel the sorrow of a twisted cause, or two give himself to chaos and die as Abaddon's warrior. To die as a soldier rather than a fool.

Mor's mind flashed back to the present and those words still echo in his mind. The Rebellion was a lie. Is it now? What else could it be? Horus died. The emperor lives. His kind will never know peace.

"Have my retinue ready."

He shook the depressing thoughts aside. The guilt can't get to him now. He turned and stepped out of the bridge.

A stormbird emerged from the hangar of the Strike Cruiser, drenched in black and gold, the strike craft wasted no time getting to the planet below, thunderhawks howling beside it as escorts.

A good few minutes had ed before Mor was inside.[C]The double doors swung open so suddenly and violently, the heavy thuds of power armoured boots echoed in the chamber as Chaos Space marines of the Oppressors, the 81st, marched into the hearing. Terminators wielding massive chainaxes, their horned heads scanning the room with rageful hate. Chaos space marines armed with bolters and chainaxes, horned with the mark of Khorne, their guns anointed with chainblade bayonets and chains.

Mor stepped into the room, his red armoured helmet staring everyone in the room. The stern lord made the sign of the aquilla and said

"The Emperor protects"

He did a mocking bow, making fun of the sudden intrusion and easing tension. A trick he learned from Anita Tane. To ease tension.

Blades Swift, Minds Sharp.

Many would not see the battlebarge, the obsidian black of its hull managing to blend with the void, except for the piercing symbol of the Golden Eye bore by the Black Legion. An Ouroroborous encircling it.

Abaddon called many legions to him, but the most influential, the most sought after, the 15th would attend this time. But this contingent of the Sons of the Cyclops were far more divergent than their sorcerous kin.

Drop ships deployed from its warp gnarled hangers, bands of Tzaangors and beastmen seemingly cheering as their perceived saints processed forth into la ding craft, stood atop discs of gold and gem that thrummed with eldritch presence and power, hovering.

The foremost was that of a Stormbird, bearing forth their leader, Setth Karrohs.

It was unknown how he got the invitation, as many would likely have requested another of his gene lineage. For his ego was as mighty as his mastery of the warp.

However, his warband, the Twisted Rune, a subsidiary of the greater warband under Abaddon's command, may have just been the perfect match to the foe to be faced...

Mere hours later, Setth would process in, as if being paraded along upon his disc of Tzeentch, robes flowing with un-wind, no natural forces truly making their claim on him or his steed.

Obsidian armour embellished in topaz and quart shone under the lumens of the room the lost and damned lords and envoys found themselves in.

"Setth Karrohs, of the Despoiler's very own."

He gave a theatrical bow, his disc tilting.

His gaze drifted across the room, his twinned eye focussing and unfocussing on the variety of beings drawn.

"My... Such a unique selection, this day, Amespehk. But surely you could have sent for more of the true sons of the primordial truth."

He sneered beneath his helm in the direction of the Lord of Contagion. The hatred between the Tzeentchian and the Nurglite an eternal thing.

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:copyright: Jpdragon_2016