RAVEN'S FEAST

Chapter 1

"There is an art to dying. But it is a dying art"

-Corvus Corax

The Warp was not beautiful. It was great, horrible, majestic even in its fathomless
power, but it was not beautiful. It was often described by void farers, Astropaths
and Navigators who had glimpsed at it as a swirling mass of radiant colors, as
sounds echoing with senseless emotions, as mind scratching visions of horror, and a
thousand other less categorizable sensations. Maintaining one's very sanity was
impossible if one were to gaze into the horror and nightmare made real for too
long, some losing their mind from a merest glimpse at the indescribable things that
could not be, that should not be. There were no suns in the Warp, but it was
anything but dark, except for metaphorically.

When Raptor's Shroud at long last ripped it's way into the realspace from a
storming, bleeding wound in the fabric of dark space, the metallic blast shields
covering the bridge's viewports could finally be lowered, revealing the star dotted
blackness behind.

Rukiel Varkhian sifted on the bridge's command throne, his finely maintained black
power armor letting out only a faintest of metallic groans of servos, virtually
impossible to hear for anybody but the Astartes wearing the ceramite-plated suit of
war.

Now the void, the void was beautiful. It was dark, it was cold, it was silent.

The sounds around the bridge made by crew, servitors and logic engines finalizing
the materium transition started to calm down as the ship successfully resettled
into the laws of the physical universe, indications of Warp jump without problems
flowing into the data ports under Rukiel's dismissive gaze. Geller fields were
lowered and the ship's withering Navigator transmitted the final confirmation from
his isolated quarters before severing his connection with the ship's machine
spirit, offering the full control back to the humans manning the bridge.

Multiple readiness and situation reports were shouted towards Rukiel's command
throne. One of the voices particularly caught the attention of the black clad
Astartes commanding the ship and the warband.

"You..." Rukiel spoke with a voice that was like a smooth but implacable granite,
pointing one of his dark gauntleted fingers calmly at an officer who had a moment
ago informed that the ship's auspex systems were in readiness.

The mortal had been about to return to his duties when he realized the ship's
master was addressing him, and he proceeded to snap into a slightly worried stance
of attention. "My lord?" He asked with a questioning and careful tone.

Rukiel flicked his hand, beckoning the mortal closer. The man hesitated for only a
moment, understanding he had no way of refusing, and quickly made his way to the
foot of the elevated platform on top of which Rukiel's throne was stationed. He
bowed deep under his lord's attention, waiting with his gaze held down.

"You are new," Rukiel spoke, as a statement rather than a question, as he lazily
fiddled with the shaft of his Power Spear, called the Shadower, that was resting
against his throne. His memory was flawless, and he remembered every single being
of the bridges crew, from the highest officers to the lowest servitors, by
appearance and sound if he did not bother to learn all their names. This mortal was
a new addition on his ship's center of command.

"Ah, yes my lord. I am the new sensor officer taking over the post from the
previous holder who passed away earlier..." His voice was cut out as a carmine red
ceramite gauntlet snapped forward from Rukiel's left, seizing the front of the man'
uniform faster than an eye could blink, and yanking him into the air. The man only
managed to let out the most basic gurgle of surprise before he was face to face
with the giant standing on the platform beside Rukiel.

The previous sensor officer had died in uncertain circumstances in his quarters
some hours ago, Rukiel knew this, and had not bothered to find out more. Only thing
of importance was that there was a replacement as soon as possible. And as always
when a new mortal was pulled up from the faceless mass of the rest of the ship into
Rukiel's own bridge, there was a certain procedure, almost a tradition by this
point.

The mortal was hanging in the air, held up by an Astartes clad in vivid red and
silver trimmed armor. The little human was gasping for air as a pale, though not
Raven Guard level pale, face leaned closer and gleaming bloodshot eyes drilled into
the mortal, paralyzing him from fear. The face of the Astartes was hideous, twisted
and stretched, a nightmarish visage of corruption and horror. His long deathly gray
hair flowed down his scalp in a disheveled manner. The irises were blood red,
gleaming with unholy, insatiable thirst.

The Blood Angel was holding the mortal in his left hand, while his right limb rose
to the neck pulsing with rapid heart beat. The right arm of the Angel was a large
augmetic talon, a metallic bionic that replaced his long lost limp with monstrous
instrument of war.

Rukiel liked the weapon. It was no lightning claw, there was no disruption field
generator on it. More surprising was that it's long claws were not made of
adamantium. They were made from simple iron, a frail metal that one would not
believe would last any kind of use in hands of an Astartes. Yet the claws were
flawless, not a single sign of wearing down or battle damage. The secret of the
weapon was, apparently, in symbolism that the Dark Price appreciated. The iron used
to make the weapon had been collected from blood of mortals, endless slaves who had
been sucked try to collect enough iron to forge the claws. It was a weapon
literally made of blood. Rukiel believed it was this symbolism and the blessing of
the Warp that made the weapon usable.

The Blood Angel reached with one of the claws of the talong and sliced at the
mortal officer's neck. It was a small cut, a precise sharp move that only drew a
small trickle of blood onto the iron claw. The Astartes brought the claw to his
lips, catching the blood with his tongue. He moved his mouth slowly, savoring the
taste. Then he let go of the mortal.

"He is competent... " Verion said to Rukiel with a slightly cracky hissing voice.

Rukiel chuckled. "Back to you duties." He grunted to the officer who quickly
scrambled away from the command throne.

Verion had ritually tested every new addition to the bridge of Raptor's Shroud for
as long the lone Blood Angel had been with the warband. He claimed he could taste
if a mortal was lacking in skill or resolve. Rukiel did not know if that was true,
but he allowed Verion to have his little tradition. On rare occasions when Verion
was of the mind the mortal currently under his evaluation was incompetent, he would
not take just a single drop of blood but instead drain them dry. He did it rarely
enough that the boost to the bridge crew's dedication was worth the lives of few
mortal slaves.

His evaluation complete, Verion stalked back to the right side of Rukiel's throne.
The Blood Angel had once been a pirate lord. He had led a small fleet of mortal
corsairs across Segmentum Pacificus, mercilessly raiding the realm of the Corpse
Emperor. Until he had bitten more than he could swallow and attacked a portion of
an Imperial g=Guard regiment temporarily stationed at some small starport. Verion's
forces had put on a hard fight, but after he lost his arm, the fight was lost. It
had been a mere Imperial Guard sergeant who had torn of the Blood Angel's right arm
with his chain blade. Not an Astartes champion of the Loyalist Legions, not some
foul Xenos monstrosity. A mere mortal had managed to do the deed in the heat of the
battle as the Guards swarmed Verion.

With their leader defeated, the corsairs were slaughtered, though Verion managed to
escape his doom. But something broke that day within the Blood Angel. After that
day he was no longer able to manifest the Glamour his Legion was known for. Rukiel
thought it was because Verion had himself lost the the faith in himself, and if he
did not believe himself a superior being, how could anyone when looking upon his
monstrous visage. Rukiel's warband of the Obsidian Talon had picked up Verion from
the Blood Angel's last remaining corsair ship. At first Rukiel had only meant to
harvest Verion's Geneseed as something to throw in the cloning material for Spawn
Marines to spice things up, or barter off to some other eager party in the Eye.
They had been however been campaigning at that time, and since Verion had been
willing to fight for the warband, Rukiel had thought it would be more useful if he
died fighting for the warband, since the Geneseed could be harvested just as well
when he fell in battle. But Verion had survived long enough for the Warband to
return to the cloning facilities of the Eye to replenish their numbers. Rukiel
could have killed Verion then and handed the Angel's Geneseed to the clone masters
along with his other raiding hauls. But he had not. And he had not done so in the
decades since. Verion was now of the warband. His Geneseed could just as well wait
until the day he fell in battle.

On the opposite side of Verion, on the right of Rukiel's throne, was another
Astartes, but he was of the Raven Guard.

Torash was a gene brother of Rukiel, and also almost identical in appearance. They
both had the white skin, black hair and dark eyes of their Progenitor. They had
same facial features of ancient Xeric tribe ancestry, same short backwards swept
hair. Only difference that made their faces not mirror images of each other was the
scaring of Torash' face, the marks of many battles the had eroded his features.

Torash was a good warrior, a man of action and little else. Simple, obedient, and
most of all loyal, the kind of man who could always find a need for himself. There
was no ambition for leadership burning in his heart, and Rukiel knew he could
always put his own life in Torash's hands. He was sharing the position of second in
command with Skiessax who was currently not on the bridge.

Now Skiessax was a clever and sly mind not without ambition in contrast to Torash.
Rukiel always had to keep an eye on him, lest he grew too blinded by his
aspirations. If Rukiel ever were to die, it would be Skiessax who would be taking
command of the Warband, there was little doubt about it, and both of them knew it.
And Rukiel had to bitterly admit he could not think of a better successor. The idea
that someone like Mortian or Kerverax could lead the warband made him laugh.
Skiessax's usefulness far outweighed his level of threat, and Rukiel hoped and
enforced that it would remain so.

There were two other figures of transhuman bulk on the bridge, a pair of Spawn
Marines standing guard on the sides the main bulkhead, unflinchingly and silently
watching over command deck through the unblinking retinal lenses of their low grade
helmets. They were probably the oldest Spawns Rukiel still had around his ship, and
they would probably stay around as long as he commanded this vessel. They were
particularly underdeveloped mentally, even more incapable of independent action
than servitors, and very poor at obeying more complex orders than even a
lobotomized slave could. They would have been practically useless on a battlefield,
but Rukiel was not a wasteful man. As a result of a whim of inventiveness he kept
them on the bridge, standing on the edge of the ship's center of command. They did
not have to do anything else then stand imposingly in their scrap imitation of a
power armor. They required practically non existent amount of nutrients, did not
have to leave their post for rest, or for anything else. They did nothing but stand
there, but their mere presence kept the grew ever on their toes, even when Rukiel
was not on the bridge, keeping any thoughts of mutiny away. They were almost brain
dead statues, but the mortal crew did not need to know that.

The world was called Nuitek by the Imperium. Most of it was covered in deep blue
seas, dotted by half green, half gray continents. The large gray clouds in its
atmosphere were not caused by pollution, but rather the high volcanic activity and
the numerous ash-spilling volcanoes that dotted the surface. High frequency of
eruptions was creating new land masses, and indeed, Rukiel's perfect memory could
spot new streaks of gray on the world's surface that definitely were not there the
last time his warband had visited this system.

It was a rather remote world, devoid of major imperial interest or presence. The
world was divided into countless feudal states, with no advanced technology or
centralized government.

It was not a death world, but the conditions were harsh, caused by the constant
highly traditional warring the feudal states practiced rather than the high
volcanic activity. The planet actually had a relatively large population of very
stable genetic purity. It had been rumored that it had once been a recruitment
world of a loyal Astartes Legion. Its population was perfectly suited for the needs
of the Raven Guard.

This was Rukiel's fourth time visiting the world. He had returned here three times
before to supply on organic material at the ends of his raids into the realspace,
when the fighting was done and all that left was to gather his bounty and stalk
back to the nest in the Eye for resupply. Fresh supply of human cattle was always
needed to fuel the geneforges of the Legion's homeworld and the production of the
Spawnkin into the Legion's ranks.

Rukiel had unofficially established Nuitek as his recurring harvest ground for
flesh. It was remote, of little interest to the Imperium who only visited it to
demand tithe every few decades. It was technologically underdeveloped, which meant
little resistance. An easy prey for the a warband seeking easy harvest rather than
a meaningful fight. It's high population assured there would be plenty of flesh
around the next time Rukiel would return here as well.

Raptor's Shroud drifted through the void towards the orb contrasted by the system's
sun, a world peacefully laying in solitude and ignorant of the wider universe.

Unlike previous times however, the orbit was not empty. Nor was it peaceful.

"My lord!" an officer suddenly yelled, the first indication of things being out of
something being wrong. "We are picking signs of void engagement from the orbit of
the planet!"

Rukiel's head snapped towards the mortal in an instant, his mind suddenly in high
alert from this unexpected development. A ship in orbit of Nuitek should be rare. A
void battle should be unheard of. Yet here he was, finding the planet probably the
only time in its history when there were actually ships taking on each other in the
cold void above it.

"Bring the ship to combat readiness. Convert power to sensors and extend their
reach," Rukiel issued an order, shifting his position on the command throne. "Tell
me what is happening."

The crew barked orders as they proceeded to get the ship into alertness for any
possible hostile actions. The Void Shields of the light cruiser came online, weapon
batteries were primed from their idleness. The auspex and other sensors reached out
to sweep the void around, carefully searching for any and all signs of a threat.

"We are reading at least two large ships in the orbit, lord!" A sensor officer
finally informed as the data poured into data screens. "There are confirmed Lance
dispersions, and what we appears to be macro ordnance wide off its target. The two
ships are definitely firing upon one another."

And faint opportunistic grin appeared on Rukiel's white lips. An ongoing void
engagement in a remote location? How fitting that the carrion birds had arrived. If
the emerging survivor of the fight was suitably damaged, Raptor's Shroud could
mercifully finish it off and loot both carcasses of the dead ships. "The ships.
Give me information. Size and indications of allegiances?"

"Unknown, lord, we are not getting more accurate readings yet."

With his ceramite clad fingers drumming the arm of his throne, Rukiel leaned
forward slightly. "Turn our course towards them and give me a visual. Maximum
magnification."

The ship changed its course slightly, vectoring itself with the void battle from
their previous direct heading for the planet. A viewscreen flickered as the
magnified image of what sensors were detecting ahead was enlarged for Rukiel's
black eyes, revealing the battle theater of the void to him. The shapes were still
small, but they were easily distinguishable against the brighter background of the
planet, further highlighted by the flares of lance fire flickering against their
void shields.

Rukiel identified the ship from their movements and the way they were using their
weaponry long before any sense of scale or shape was perceivable. "They are Strike
Cruisers…" He muttered silently enough for only Verion and Torash to hear.

As they frew closer, the nature of the ship grew only clearer, and soon there was
no mistaking them.

"My lord, the ship appear to be Astartes Strike Cruisers," came the confirmation
long after Rukiel had already come to the same conclusion.

"Drop our speed by a quarter and convey power to hide the reactor trail. We will
run silent."

"By you will, lord. Dropping speed.

"Let's see what he have here," Rukiel mused to the two Astartes standing beside
him.

Raptor's Shroud drifted closer, a silent hunter cautiously stalking the territory
of larger predator. The two Strike Cruisers paid no mind to the smaller light
cruiser, most likely not detecting the ship running silent in the cover of the dark
void, or if they detected it, they were quite busy with mauling each other.
Rukiel recognized the heraldry both of the Legion ships, their colors and symbols
easily readable from the distance his ship was observing the brawls of the giant
ships. One of the ships was sporting colors of White and Blue of the Eaters of
Worlds, their fanged maw decorating the prow the mighty vessel as it spat the
payload of its weapons at its dark counterpart. Now the other vessel...

"That is Second Shadow... " Rukiel whispered in surprise at the sight of the vessel
of his own Legion. It was an ancient ship of the days of the Crusade. Rukiel had
witnessed that very same ship gutting the loyalist crafts during the Dropsite
Massacre. It's hull was dotted with scratches and damage from millennia of
conflict, but it was still a majestic beast of the void in its dark glory.

And it was getting destroyed by its younger cousin.

"It looks like the rumors of this being a recruitment world of a Legion might have
not been so empty after all," Rukiel snarled.

"We should attack." Torash declared with his typical short sightedness. "Let us
crush the Eaters together with the Second Shadow.."

Rukiel grunted in disagreement. If the Raven Guard ship facing the XIIth Legion had
been winning, or at least holding its own, he might have considered it. Out of the
opportunity to scavenge a Legion vessel's hulk as well as in the name of blood's
kinship with the Raven Guard vessel.

But Second Shadow was most certainly not winning this fight in the void. It was
losing. Badly.

Atmosphere was leaking from numerous ruptures in its hull, its armor plating
hammered and breached in many places around the ship. Its lances were not firing
despite no visible damage to them, and its maneuvering was dragging and much
sloppier, indication of high chance of internal damage by enemy boarding. Rukiel
knew quite well what World Eater boarding parties could do to a ship. The XIXth
Legion ship was fighting a losing battle, but fight it did still.

"They should have run." Rukiel gave his evaluation of the obvious. "They should
have fled a long time ago." This battle was pointless, the Raven Guard ship should
have been trying to disengage while it still could. Instead it was mauling the
World Eaters with its remaining still operational weapon batteries, a wounded prey
defiantly snapping at a predator that was killing it. This battle reeked of
desperation, of futile resistance of the inevitable.

"They are dying," Verion snarled coldly.

"They are," Rukiel agreed as he rested against his throne and watched the death of
the magnificent metal beast of the void.

The killing blow came soon after. World eaters ship spun around in a maneuver that
the Raven Guard ship could not hope to respond in time. A deathly accurate torpedo
salvo scythed through the void and debris that had been ripped from the ships or
that might have once been escorts. The warhead spread was fired at a close range,
against a target that was unable to correct its course in a way that would have
spared it.

The torpedoes impacted the spine of the dark Strike Cruiser, the massive damage
caused by the simultaneous detonations breaking the back of the ship. It was cut in
half, ripped into two pieces in the middle as its killer turned to release one last
broadside into the already fatal wound that it had inflicted upon its enemy.
Rukiel half hoped the plasma reactors of the Second Shadow would have overheated
and detonated in the ship's death throes. If it had taken the World Eater ship with
it or at least seriously crippled it, it would have been a perfect battlefield for
Raptor's Shroud to descend upon the carrions.

But the death of Second Shadow was a silent, flareless event in the cold of the
vacuum. Its systems failed and all its lights and engines died out, its weapons
fell silent, and all its defiant struggling fell to gravely stillness. Its two
largest pieces simply drifted apart in the uncaring darkness of the void, its crew
dead or freezing inside it.

The World Eater vessel pulled away, leaving the huge wreckage satellites that it
had created in the orbit of the planned behind. It left the metal carcass behind,
retreating to lick its wounds towards the pole of the planet.

Raptor's Shroud was only a Hellbringer-class light cruiser, claimed by the warband
in the years after the Great Betrayal after the loss of their old ship. It could
not hope to prevail against a true Astartes Strike Cruiser, even one damaged and
scarred by recent battle. There could be still over a hundred World Eaters aboard
it, whereas Rukiel had only his lieutenants and few Spawn squads, a token force
left after a long riding flight, desperately in need of restocking.

And so the World Eater ship was allowed to go undisturbed, allowed to limp away
from the engagement as the proud victor with its head held high.

"Take a heading towards the wreckage of the Second Shadow, one third of the maximal
thrust. Keep us still silent, I don't want the attack dogs of the the Corpse on a
Throne spot us and give us the same treatment," Rukiel finally ordered when the
World Eaters had reached a far enough point that Rukiel dared to slip forth with
Raptor's Shroud in cover of stealth and battlefield wreckage.

The ship started to cautiously thrust itself forward, emerging from the shadow of
the planet's tiny moon, heading straight for the fresh husk of a brother Legion
ship like a carrion beast approaching to feast something left behind by an apex
predator.

"Skiessax," Rukiel spoke after opening a vox channel. "Were you paying attention to
the slaughter that just took place?"

"Yes," came a half snarl of an reply. "What are your orders?"

"Prepare a boarding force. Let's see if there is anything in there that we can
salvage."

The bulkhead was already broken when Rukiel and his squad reached it. The massive
blast door had been ripped from the wall, lying as a twisted chunk of bend metal on
in the gravityless corridor, and he past over it with without any effort.

What had once been the command deck of the Second Shadow was now a smashed chamber
of mess filled with obliterated logic engines and control stations, servitor
positions and command platforms. Wreckage and varyingly intact frozen bodies that
had once been the bridge crew floated around the chamber that now almost resembled
more like a crater. Front of the bridge had been torn away, leaving behind a
massive hole open to the void.

The world of Nuitek was visible through the giant tear in the metal structure, and
Rukiel gazed at the bright surface of the gigantic planet that loomed ahead of him
with only emptiness of space between them.
"Spread out, see if the is anything valuable in here," He barked to the the other
power armored warriors behind him before he fired his jump pack in a contained
burst, sending himself to drift towards the central dais of the command deck.

Skiessax, Verion, and Kerverax spread out, their feet mag-locking to the metal deck
and allowing them to effortlessly move among all the void exposed wreckage. Mortian
followed Rukiel, his own jump pack letting out a feint thrust as he followed his
commander.

None of the Spawn Marines accompanied the boarding force, since few of them
possessed what passed for power armor that was void sealed. Most of the exploration
of the hulk was left to scavenging crews of void-suited servitors that were going
through the bones of the ship's corpse at the moment, but Rukiel had wanted to
inspect the bridge himself.

The command throne at the center of the bridge had remained mostly intact, though
the platform around it had been severely scarred by violently impacting debris.
Rukiel landed on steps of the stair leading to the throne, mag-locking and
continuing to ascend on foot. Mortian followed, smashing a collapsed support beam
aside with his power fist.

Rukiel reached the most elevated dias and gazed upon the broken remains that sat on
the throne. The transhuman carcass was twisted open from the torso, like something
had bursted out from beyond the ribcage. Some of the flesh was black and glistening
as if something had liquefied some of the internal organs and then frozen them
solid, but was not quite educated how the physical laws of those procedures were
meant to happen.

What had slain the Legionnaire was a unobservable from the corpse, though not hard
to guess when regarding the damage the bridge had suffered under the guns of the
World Eaters. A single tear in amor exposed to the void could indeed be fatal to a
Raven Guard Legionnaire, as they were all missing functioning Mucranoid, and
therefore lacked the same transhuman protection to the vacuum possessed by the
other bloodlines of the eighteen Legions. The death and the dark release of the
Unkind had rendered any original fatal trauma beyond diagnosis.

The black power armor was twisted apart from the inside, most of its components
ruined beyond salvaging. Both of the legs were nowhere to be seen, as was one of
the arms, whereas the remaining one was clenching the throne in an iron death grip.
The top of the body and the helmet were mostly intact, and Rukiel peared into the
dead retinal lenses of the finely decorated helmet, but not finely crafted enough.

Unless Khulkis, leader of the warband of the Dark Blood, had recently suffered from
a sudden urge to make his battle plate less ornamental, this was not the leader of
the Legion forces that had used Second Shadow as their flagship. Rukiel had met
Khulkis a handful of times, and the man was not famous for his humility. That left
the question, where was the leader of the Dark Blood. Why had he not commanded his
own shit against the onslaught of the XIIth.

"Anything?" Rukiel asked from the open vox channel shared by his warriors.

"Not much. No Pureblood corpses, and only couple of Spawnkin," Kerverax grunted as
he smashed aside a floating remains of a frozen over servitor from his path.

"Nothing but wreckage," Verion spoke with his faintly slithering voice.

"We did not see any Legionnaire presence on the way here either," Skiessax pointted
out from the front of the bridge, where he was standing of the on the edge of the
whole in the metal structure. "This dead craft is almost empty of the Ravenlord's
sons."
"So where are they? Surely they did not board the World Eaters," Kerverax asked.

"Maybe they are on the surface," Skiessax offered his theory as he watched the
world from his vantage point.

That was most likely it, Rukiel realized and was suddenly quite sure of it. That
would explain why the Second Shadow had continued its desperate fight against the
the World Eater vessel, possibly trying to wait until its warriors extracted from
the world below. Most of the warband was almost certainly down upon the planet. But
why? What did a world like this have that would require deployment of practically
all of the warband? It was possible that the Raven Guard had spread out along the
ship to rebel boarders, but Skiessax was right, they had not encountered anything
pointing toward that possibility.

"If they are on the planet, the Word Eaters are probably also there," Mortian
rasped from beside Rukiel. "It is probably a full company, and they have just torn
Second Shadow in two, establishing orbital support supremacy. If Khulkis and his
lot are still alive down there, they are not going to be for long."

"I hope you are not suggesting helping them," Kerverax scoffed. "We don't have the
forces to face the Eaters. Khulkis got himself into this mess, and now he pays for
his mistakes."

That would also mean there would a Spire without a master on the planet of the
Ravenlord when they would return to the Eye, Rukiel mused to himself. Full of
resources that the Dark Blood would no longer be needing. Rukiel of course had his
own Spire on the dark, nameless world of the revered Primarch, but it was a modest
one at best, reflecting one of the Legion's smaller warbands of that he commanded.
The Spire of the Dark Blood, on the other hand...

Had the World Eater Strike Cruiser been lost in the void combat or finished of by
Rukiel's ship, he might have lended a hand and at least offered to pick up Khulkis
and the rest of his Purebloods onboard his ship, if they were still alive down on
the surface. He might have, or he might have not. But he would not risk it with the
hounds of the False Emperor hanging in orbit. This was probably the end of Khulkis,
another of the precious few Pure-blooded sons of the Ravenlord gone, without even
the chance of resurrection at the hands of the Legion Apothecaries. Shame.

"No" Rukiel spoke as he stared at the vast ruin of a bridge in front of him. It was
so much bigger than that of the Raven's Shroud. Oh, what Rukiel would have done to
command a vessel such a this had been. "Khulkis got himself killed, Dark Blood is
on its own." Rukiel turned towards Mortian and pointed at the corpse of the Raven
Guard Pureblood who had been claimed by the Warp now. "Take that with you. We'll
see if Arkmadius can get anything off it."

"I want the helmet," Mortian replied as he moved into grap the dead form.

"Your lord generously grants it to you," Rukiel replied with a smirk.

The way to what had once been the Raptor's Shroud medical deck was filled with cold
and stark metal corridors with little signs of life. There were sub chamber doors
on both sides of Rukiel that had not been opened since the ship had been claimed by
Obsidian Talons, leading into patient chambers that had not seen a living being in
millenia. The mortal crew avoided this part of the ship, out of rumors and fear
caused by the reputation that the Raven Guard held when it came to shaping flesh
and twisting bodies, rather than any real cause. Rukiel did not have the services
of one of the Legions revered and dreaded Apothecaries under his command, so the
medical deck was not an sanctum of abominations and horrors beyond realms of
sanity.

He reached the main chambers, entering through one of the only frequently used
bulkheads on this sublevel of the ship, followed by Kerverax and Mortian, who was
still carrying what remained of the dead Pureblood recovered from the wreck of
Second Shadow.

The space was filled with medical instruments of both familiar and unfamiliar
nature to Rukiel. Operation and dissection tables, instrument catches and lumen
pods. Couple of large tanks were hanging from the far wall, filled unknown
transparent liquids. A freezer unit in the corner, keeping its contents preserved.

Not a great cavern of ruin, not a temple of dark genius.

The sole occupant of the room approached the three Purebloods, detaching himself
from whatever project he had had under his attention. The warrior was clad in the
pristine black Power Armor of the Legion, the white Raven symbol proudly displayed
on his left shoulder plate. "Lord Varkhian, you have something for me?" He said
respectfully, his eyes traveling to the corpse over Mortian's shoulder.

Arkmadius was a son of the Ravenlord, but despite the old Narthecium in his right
wrist, he was not an Apothecary. He wore no great mantle of the Legions
genecrafters, nor were his white face and obsidian eye covered by a signature
beaked helmet. Arkmadius was a of younger blood, one of the few trueborn inducted
into the Legion after the Heresy. He was aspiring to become an Apothecary one day,
to learn the secrets of human genome and flesh crafting, but for now he was serving
as the Harvester of Rukiel's warband. Rukiel was fully patroning his search for
dark knowledge and quest to be raised among the ranks of the Raven's gene
architects.

Arkmadius watched over the delivery of mortal material to the incubator forges of
the Legion homeworld, as well a harvested the Astartes geneseeds of the warbands
fallen enemies, the most valued resource in the Eye. There was a chain around his
neck where many tiny metal tubes were hanging, three of them filled with organic
matter, the signifier of one of his most important duties. Each of the three
samples were from a dead Purebloods lost over the years of the Long War, lost
brothers claimed by the Warp. One day, if the dark tidings of the Empyrean allowed
it, they might stand alongside Rukiel again and serve Legion once more. One day.

"A fallen son of the Raven is brought before you," Rukiel spoke as he motioned
Mortian forth, and the Legionnaire proceeded deeper into the chamber and lowered
the remains of a dead gene brother to one of the cold metal tables of the chamber.
Mortian was sure to detach the fallen warrior's helmet and claim it before
withdrawing. "Harvest his pure and honored blood so that he might one day receive
the chance to return from beyond the Veil to his Legion, and his Seed if you are
able, so that the essence of our Raven father might live on," Rukiel continued.
"Then send his corporeal remains into the cold darkness."

Arkmadius nodded, placing a hand on the capsules hanging from his neck and moving
to loom over operation table. "Blood of our dark lord," he said with reverence as
he detached one of the empty tubes, so very small in his transhuman hands.

Mortian Left the chamber, clutching his trophy of a helmet, the bulkhead closing
behind him.

Rukiel and Kerverax move to stand at the end of the metal slab where the corpse
lay, looking down into the black lifeless eyes in gaunt sockets.
"You think the brain might yet be beyond ruination?" Rukiel asked as Arkmadius cut
the corpse with his Narthecium.

"It was exposed to the void for a long while," Kerverax reminded him with a grunt.

"His transhuman flesh is not yet completely degenerated, and his helmet was intact,
so I guess it is possible," Akrmadius replied as a new vial of blood and tissue was
added to the chain of the fallen around his neck.

"Only one way to find out. I want to know what in the Warp they were doing in this
sector." Rukiel said, lifting his deactivated power spear above the corpse's head.
The adamantium tip of the Shadower came down with a crunch as it split the skull of
the dead Pureblood open, exposing the gray brain matter beyond the cranium. Rukiel
moved his spear aside, his right armored hand coming down and grasping the brain
material before claiming it from its ruined bone socket. He brought the organ of
brain cells and cerebral synapses to his pale lips, and then opened his mouth to
feast upon it.

It was gone in a moment, and Rukiel closed his eyes as his transhuman body attacked
the mind cells of the dead Raven Guard. His Omophagea reached into the consumed
organ, pulling experience and memory information from it, nerves transferring the
extracted information into Rukiel's own brain. His truly humble Psychic ability,
granted by his bloodline, aided the process, persuading the cells to think
themselves a little more alive and less damaged than they were with the help the
Empyrean, allowing him to drink in all the memory information that was at this
point physically possible and then a bit more.

The memories started flooding Rukiel's mind, and he harnessed his iron mind to
search for the things that mattered, things related to the final moments of the
dead Pureblood's life and his warband. Why were they here on this world beyond the
eyes of the Gods? Why had Khulkis committed his warriors to that foolish endeavour
that had seen his ship lost? Why had they not simply just ran to fight another day.
Why, why why?

The first memory trail of an answer came, and the slowly coming revelation hit
Rukiel's mind like a master crafter Thunder Hammer when it finally came. He learned
the reason the dead Pureblood had led the ship against the World Eaters from scraps
of memory. He learned the reason Khulkis was on the surface with most of his
forces. He learned why they had not run. He learned of the undreamable prize that
the forces on the planet had been fighting for.

Had he seen it, Rukiel though as his hearts hammered, his mind filled with sudden
zeal. Had the Legionnaire on the ship's bridge seen it? He drilled into the dead
memories with more determination and eagerness, forcing his mind to reap all it
could from the digested brain matter. And he finally came to one particular moment
in the now deceased Pureblood's final moments, one image that made him to hold his
breath.

A vision of a command deck of a starship, of a Strike Cruiser. A vision of a

holographic communicator and a transmission. Vision of a flickering image of
Khulkis of the Dark Blood.

A vision of the Raven Guard warlord holding in his hand a relic... A relic of a
Primarch...

A relic of the Ravenlord...

Aaand that is the first chapter of this new little story of mine. It has been long
in the planning, and with the release of the Zahariel's Raven Guard chapter, I may
finally begin this.

This story takes place in an uncertain year of the 38th millenium, following Rukiel
Varkhian and his small Raven Guard warband on their mission on the world of Nuitek.
This is a short story, it will probably be 3-5 chapters long, just little something
that I though I would write to contribute to the Roboutian Heresy universe. I hope
to do Zahariel's work justice, he has given his blessing upon this story and I try
not to disappoint. Thanks to him for also beta reading this for me.

In case you were wondering, Chaos is the Prize in on a small hiatus until I
complete this out of the way. Should not take too long, don't worry.

Leave a review to tell me what you think, and have a nice day.
Chapter 2

Does wisdom perhaps appear on the earth as a raven which is inspired by the smell
of carrion?

-Friedrich Nietzsche

It was not a proper strategium like the ones that could be found on board real
Legiones Astartes vessels, but it served the purpose satisfactorily. There was a
large holo projection table near the center, capable of producing the visuals and
information that were required in a war meeting. Multiple data processing stations
fitted with hardwired servitors lined the walls, mostly covered by the shadows of
the poorly light chamber, noticeable only by the blinking lights of the logi
engines and the silent monotone reporting of the lobotomized thralls.

Only properly illuminated areas were the large dais that the holo table was located
upon, and the higher yet raised throne that loomed on the edge of the platform
overseeing it all, which Rukiel was currently sitting on. There were two other
Legionnaires in the room, Torash and Mortian, who were gazing at the projection of
the world of Nuitek, observing it in silence while they waited for others of the
warband to join them.

Rukiel was leaning against his left arm, idly tinkering with a most ordinary
datapad in his right hand that was always sitting on the arm of his throne. It was
a little personal treasure of his because of its content, which was not of
particular value, other than the amusement it brought to Rukiel every time he read
it. Scribed on the back of the datapad were a few slightly faded words: Guilliman
was weak, Gulliman was a fool.

Rukiel had never particularly liked the throne, unlike the previous leader of the
warband. In the days when Captain Iotera had still been among the living, he had
sat on this grand throne, ever seeming to brood over the loss of his original, much
grander, ship that had been lost during the Great Betrayal, and the even grander
throne onboard it. However, Rukiel had been leading the warband ever since Iotera
got his head ripped off by a Nigh Lord champion, and the throne came with the
leadership.

The memories of the fallen Raven Guard Pureblood found onboard the remains of
Second Shadow were endlessly swirling in his head as his black idle eyes stared at
the chamber's ceiling. His mind was racing with emotion like it had not done in a
long, long time. What they had stumbled upon this pathetic little planet was huge.
A relic of the Raven Lord… it was a prize Rukiel had never even dreamed of. And it
was right down there on the surface, right in his reach to grasp and claim for
himself.

But the risks were huge. The World Eaters were still steadily remaining in the
orbit, most likely having a presence on the planet itself as well. Rukiel's warband
was depleted, the Spawn warriors he used to wage his wars were reduced to couple of
squads and desperately in need of resupply. The Eaters would almost certainly have
every advantage over the Raven Guard. A deployment onto the planet was not far from
being considered suicidal. But they were going to do it anyway. Without even having
to go through the war meeting, Rukiel knew they were going to do it, he was going
to make them do it. If there ever was a risk worth taking, it was this one.

The main bulkhead of the strategium sanctum opened, followed by two more
Legionnaires stepping through and joining Torash and Mortian upon the holo
projection dais. Kerverax was clad in the black of the Legion, whereas Verion still
wore the red of his Angel bloodline. The two took their places, and the bulkhead
did not close before Arkmadius came through it as well, rising to stand next to
Rukiel's throne, nodding to Rukiel in respect.

Verion was an outsider, though not the only one, in the warband. An adopted lost
son that Rukiel kept on a short leash. He had proven a valuable champion to fight
for Rukiel when the leader of the warband did not want to send out and risk losing
pure-blooded Torash, who was the proper champion of the warband.

Kerverax was the man of many talents, honored for his ability to get the job done
no matter what Rukiel asked of him, but he was also not as narrow minded as Torash
and Mortian, possessing a healthy dose of instinct and selfreliance.

Mortian was the reliable honor guard of Rukiel, always following him on the
battlefield with one of the warband's three jump packs, the other two belonging to
Rukiel and Torash.

Then there was Arkmadius, the young blood. Only one that distinctively looked apart
from his gene brothers, who all otherwise looked very much alike, with his scarless
high cheekboned face and shaved head. The only one of the sons of the Ravenlord
onboard this ship who had not been there on the days of the betrayal and who had
not been part of the siege of Sol and Titan. He was not a Veteran of the Heresy,
but he was far from being the least valuable member of the warbands inner circle.
And he had potential in him. Oh, so much potential. Potential Rukiel would see him
reach and harness for his own purposes.

The two Astartes next to enter through the bulkhead were also clad in the colors of
two different Legions, though this time neither of them carried the symbol of the
Raven. One of them wore black, not as the member of the Raven Guard, but to hide
his old colors, while the other's armor was contrasting white. The pair entered the
ring on Legionnaires on the furthest side from Rukiel's throne, one of them bowing
quite deeply towards the master of the ship, while the other just stood stoically
and implacably, his hands firmly on the shaft of his combat axe.

Tseren raised his gaze from the bow. "Lord Varkhian," he said respectfully in
recognition with his heavily Chogorian accented Low Gothic, his mustache crowned
lips mimicking a semblance of a smile. He had his long barreled stalker bolter
strapped on his back, and his right hand was resting on the pommel of a curving
design combat knife in the fashion of his Legion. His white, black trimmed Crusade
pattern armor was still the the same he had worn on that day many years ago when
Rukiel had picked him along in the Malestorm. He had been alone with nowhere else
to go, since his old warband had exiled him after one of their champions was killed
by an Imperial Fist sniper.

The black armored Nikau, who unlike the White Scar and the Blood Angel in the room
did not wear a symbol of his bloodline visibly, could have passed for a son of the
Ravenlord. His tribalistic tattoo decorated face could have been considered more
similar to Rukiel's than the visage of Arkmadius. He did not talk much, but he
obeyed, and sure knew how to operate an Autocannon.

Rukiel truly respected Verion and Tsaren for keeping their Legion colors, and while
he did not quite as much respect Nikau, he could understand very well why the black
clad warrior choose to hide his old heraldry, his was a special case. If there was
one thing close to Rukiel's heart, it was honoring one's bloodline and Progenitor,
even though no other Legion had as mighty and glorious as his own. One should wear
the colors of one's bloodline proudly, always keeping the spirit of the Legion in
him. Without respect for the Primarch whose blood coursed through one's veins,
without having the flame of the Legion spirit in their soul, a Legionnaire was not
worthy of being called an Astartes, like those faithless wenches of the Black
Legion who had forsaken their heritage and colors or never truly possessed them to
begin with. There was no other group of transhumans, not counting the loyalists of
course, that Rukiel despised more than that soulless ragtag mesh of castouts,
turncoats and fatherless bastards that dared to call themselves a Legion. The black
armor they wore also felt like a personal insult to his own gene line.

Last to arrive was the sharer of the second in command position Skiessax. The
cunning soldier and the capable leader. A bit too capable for Rukiel's taste, but
he was an valuable asset to the warband. Rukiel did not have to think whether
something could be left to be handled by Skiessax, but rather whether it should.

With the arrival of Skiessax, all the full Legionnaires and Purebloods were
accounted for, but the bulkhead was traveled through one last time, three more
figures entering the chamber before the war meeting truly began.

These three things did not approach the dais of the holo projector, but rather
remained to stand a respectful distance from the true Legionnaires, bowing deeper
then anyone of the Astartes before them towards the throne and Rukiel as his gaze
swept over them, only lifting their faces long after his eyes had passed them.

These three were the Primes commanding Rukiel's remaining Spawn Marines, rare one
among hundreds that had proven themselves to be above their lesser kin. They led
Spawn Marines squads on the battlefield and were here as the arbitrators of Rukiel
will to the Spawnkin.

Two of them, known to Rukiel only as Dim-prime and Sha-prime, wore heavily worn and
much experienced warplate of power armor that hid most of their mutations from
sight, a far cry from the pristine and well maintained armor worn by the
Purebloods, but still leagues better than what most of their kin could hope for.

The last, Kia-prime, was unable or rather unwilling to be clad in proper power
armor, and was instead armored in a slightly modified Astartes scout armor. The
reason for the less restrictive wargear was obvious.

Kia-prime had wings sprouting from its back, coming through the holes in the back
of his carapace that would have rendered carrying real Power Armor's power pack
impossible without heavy modification that nobody would offer for a mere Spawn
Marine. The wings were withered and skeletally looking, only bearing pitiful amount
of oily looking feathers, and completely unusable for flying. If anything they were
ugly appendages making navigating tight spaces more difficult for Kia-prime.

But Rukiel liked them, considering the cearly raven-like mutation as a good sign or
at least in line with the spirit of the revered Ravelord, so he had show some favor
for Kia-prime. The Prime lead the first squad of the Spawnkin, composed of the most
stable and long surviving individuals of their kind, as well as couple of other
Primes that were currently without units to lead.

With the Primes there, all of the warriors expected for the war meeting were
accounted for, and it could finally begin.

"You know why we are here" Rukiel spoke as he laid down the datapad and stood up
from his high throne, addressing the Astartes gathered before him. He started
descending down from his higher position towards the Legionnaires ringing the holo
machine. Rukiel reached the circle and completed it by stepping between Torash and
Arkmadius.

"Can it really be?" Skiessax asked with a hint of the same burn in his eyes that
Rukiel felt in his own heart. The Astartes in this chamber, on this ship, they were
no ones on the grand theater of the Long War, yet it was to them that a moment like
this had been dealt by fate.

"Yes…" Rukiel purred as he reached forward with his hand towards the holographic
mimicry of the planet the ship was orbiting. He wondered in the corner of the mind
if the fool Guilliman himself had once gestured in the same way towards the cradle
of humanity, his prize. "A weapon wielded by the Ravenlord himself during the dawn
of the Corpse Emperor's Imperium! Here, upon this world. Ours for the dare of
claiming it."

"We must retrieve it!" Torash growled with zeal in his heart. "It is ours by our
blood. It belongs to the Legion!"

"Why are we still lingering here in the orbit?" Mortian asked while leaning to
grasp the edge of the holo machinery with his left and, twisting his Power Fist
into a steely grip with his right one. "Let us make planetfall."

"The World Eaters…" Nikau spoke the words as a rasping half whisper, addressing the
only thing that stood between the warband and their prize. Some snarls and growls
responded the mention of the loyalist sons of Angron.

"We face dogs of the False Emperor once more," Kerverax growled.

"The Strike cruiser still holds orbit over the planet," Skiessax said with his
slick voice. "They will kill us the moment they find out we are here."

"Are you doubting our might to strike them aside with our blades should they get in
our way?" Torash asked with an accusing tone, causing some like Verion and Mortian
to glance at Skiessax with gazes seeking cowardice to judge.

"Not at all," Skiessax replied as he turned his slightly narrowed black eyes to
look at Torash. "I am merely pointing out the problem in the shape of a company's
worth of heavily armed World Eaters with overwhelming air and orbital support that
you and your blade have to resolve."

Torash snarled but held his tongue. Tseren chucled slightly.

"It probably is not a full company in its prime anymore," Kerverax pointed out.
"The Dark Bloods were not a small warband. They probably put on quite a fight
before the Eaters butchered them."

"Yes. The Eaters are still recovering from a the fight." Tseren mused. "But even if
they took heavy casualties, they almost certainly would overwhelm us completely."

"That is why we must act so that they will not get the chance to." Rukiel declared
and every other pair of eyes turned to him. "Our objective is the relic of
Ravenlord, not the glorious battle. All else is meaningless other than retrieving
it."
"So we get in, slaughter anything that stands between us and the relic, and get
out?" Mortian asked.

"I would prefer if we encountered as few of the loyalist scum as possible." Rukiel
confirmed. "This moment, this endeavour we are about to make, could very well be
the most important thing in we have done in millenia. A relic of the Ravenlord!
Brothers, I cannot stress enough how amazing opportunity we have been granted
here."

The value of a relic once wielded by a one of the sons of the False Emperor was
immeasurable. That the relic belong to Rukiel's own genefather and overlord was
almost unbelievable. He knew Legionnaires who would have given their other heart to
receive such a chance that was now within his reach.

Rukiel acknowledged he was one of the less prestigious lords of the XIXth, and as
much as he would have wanted nothing more than to wield such a relic himself and
present it to the Ravenlord on the day he finally emerged from the depths of his
dark spire, he knew there were other lords who would crave the same thing. Lords
who would pay a great price to possess the relic.

Rukiel beheld the Astartes before him, even sparing a glance to the Spawn Primes
who were still kneeling beyond the edge of the elevated dais. He needed to convince
and commit them into this highly dangerous endeavour, both his gene brothers as
well as the members of his warband belonging to other bloodlines. This was his
monumental chance, his great opportunity to take a giant step on his path to glory.
Something like this would never come again.

"Are you with me?"

"It is a big planet," Skiessax said as he stared out of the command deck's grand
viewports. "If the relic is not located where you believe, we are not going be able
to scour the planet in search of it with the World Eaters hanging in the orbit."

"The relic will be there," Rukiel replied from his throne. He watched as he world
of Nuitek was slowly growing beyond the void glass, encompassing evermore of the
field of view as Raptor's Shroud slowly sneaked cautiously closer to the southern
pole of the planet, careful to keep the world between it and the loyalist Strike
Cruiser. Auspex was constantly scouring the system, seeking any signs of enemy
fighters or gunships, but the void was empty as ever.

A holographic mapping display was projected for Rukiel to observe, offering some
general terrain information of the location further beyond the equator that was
their target. The memories he had stolen from the cells of the dead Revan Guard
were spinning in his mind, endlessly coming and going as he searched them over and
over again.

He knew the location where the Dark Bloods had deployed themselves, and where they
had encountered the World Eaters. And he could feel the relic was there. Rukiel was
not sure if his Psychic abilities were actually granting him some empyrial insight,
but he almost could have said that the relic was calling him, that it was right
there. Maybe he could actually feel something, maybe it was just all in his head.

"It will be there," Rukiel repeated confidently to Skiessax.

"You sound very sure of the matter." The other Astartes replied from beside the
command throne. "For all we know, the Eaters might have found the relic and taken
it with them or destroyed it."

Rukiel glared at Skiessax with a sudden spike of strange feeling of anger, but it
vanished as suddenly as it had had come to him. During the war meeting, he had
almost expected Skiessax to suggest waiting for the loyalist dogs to leave before
they made planetfall. He could never have taken such a risk, the relic had to be
retrieved before anything could happen to it.

"I am sure," Rukiel said after returning his gaze to the closing surface of the
planet.

"How?" Skiessax dared to ask.

Rukiel mused the question in his mind for a moment, making Skiessax wait for an
aswer. When he found the answer himself, it actually brought an amused smirk on his
face. It was an answer he would have expected from a deluded soul who worshipped
Gods the Primordial Annihilator. Rukiel himself did not. One could only worship
things one did not understand.

"I have faith," Rukiel chuckled, causing to Skiessax to glance at him with a
slightly bewildered expression.

Rukiel rose from his throne with his power spear held with conviction in his hand,
descended from his throne's command platform and headed for the door and the hangar
bay, Skiessax not far behind.

"We are all going down there," Skiessax said as they approached the main bulkhead,
his tone implying he did not think it was necessarily wise.

Every available member of the warband would be descending on the planet, leaving
the ship empty of Astartes presence. Rukiel would take everything he had down to
planetside. The mission was simply so important it required all the resources he
had. Every Pureblood, every cousin Astartes, every Spawn Marine. Well, at least
almost everyone.

"Don't worry, we have reliable guards to look after the ship while we are gone,"
Rukiel said, stopping between the two immobile Spawn Marines evermore standing
guard at the entrance of the bridge. "If the crew tries anything without my orders,
shoot them," he said to the two barely sentient statues with a slightly louder
voice than was necessary. He could feel the silent pause of the bridge crew behind
him as he made his way out of the bulkhead. He was not worried the crew would be
getting any funny ideas, nor was he worried that the Spawns might accidentally
slaughter the mortals. The two Spawn Marines did not have any ammo in their bulky
autoguns.

The black Storm Eagle glided low in the planet atmosphere, flanked by two bulkier
Thunderhawks, the white raven symbols decorating their flanks. The gunships were
flying close to the surface, keeping their altitude low in case of loyalist
aircrafts or sensor sweeps. The world below them was ashen gray and rocky, perhaps
created by a volcanic and tectonic upheaval relatively recently. The landscape was
stark and barren, a mountainous place with no signs of fauna and extremely limited
flora. Enormous canyons and fissures were not rare, some of them so deep that no
bottom could be perceived.

"Ten minutes to objective area," came a metallic monotone rasp of a servitor from
the Storm Eagles internal vox network.

"Anything on the auspex?" Rukiel inquired from the back of the vehicle's troop
compartment, where he was mag-locked to the floor and holding on to a support
railing.

"Negative."
Rukiel nodded and glanced at the other occupants of the craft. Torash, Mortian and
Nikau had already disengaged themselves from the harness seats. Kerverax and Tseren
were coolly inspecting their respective weapons and Verion was scraping his
shoulder pauldron with his massive claw, muttering to himself.

True Astartes were traveling on board the more agile and advanced Storm Eagle,
whereas the Spawnkin were on board the two bulkier Thunderhawks. If the situation
required it, the Thunderhawks could be sacrificed so that the Storm Eagle might
escape, but Rukiel hoped it would not come to that. Those crafts were somewhat hard
to replace in the Eye.

"Five minutes to objective area."

"Ready yourselves!" Rukiel said as last of the Astartes separated from their
harnesses and started performing the final inspections of their wargear. He opened
a vox channel. "Order the Thunderhawks to scout ahead and secure the landing area."

"Compliance."

"If the World Eaters shoot the Thunderhawks down and kill the Spawns, do we return
to the ship and leave?" Tseren asked as he adjusted the scope of his stalker
bolter.

"No, if such a thing were to happen, we would land and make the rest of the way on
foot," Rukiel replied with a firm look at the white clad Astartes. "We are not
leaving this world without the relic. We go there, we kill what we must, we claim
the relic, and we leave with the prize, or we are not leaving alive."

Rukiel lifted his spear as much as he could inside the hull of the aircraft, taking
in all of the Legionnaires with his black eyes. "Victorus aut Mortis!" he cried
out.

"Victorus aut Mortis!" came the loud reply.

The landing area showed clear signs of battle. Couple of wrecked and smoking drop
pods were the first things Rukiel noticed, before the rest of the canyon came into
view. The rocky ground was black with weapon dispersions, some small fires still
dotting the scene. Bodies, hundreds of them, were scattered around. Rukiel could
see the black and raven symbol of the Raven Guard everywhere, as well as the great
maw against white and blue of the World Eaters, though the black corpses severely
outnumbered the loyalist ones.

But there was no sign of anything still living. Fallen weapons and broken
battleplate littered the ground, coated in the blood of the dead warriors in
testimony to the brutal and fierce battle that had taken place here. Only unmoving
corpses laid there, a truly magnificent feast for any of the planets carrion birds.

"My lord, no enemy targets," Sha-prime informed Rukiel with a rasping voice as his
lord descended down the ramp of the the Storm Eagle. "My warriors are inspecting
the dead."

"Good," Rukiel replied as he slowly turned his gaze from the scene unfolding before
him. Sha-prime bowed as his master's eyes fell upon him. His Power Armor reminded
Rukiel of the battleplate used by ancient Thunder Warriors. It had had the same
primitive feeling to it in its simplicity and roughness of the craft. It was
however totally superior to the armor of other Spawnkin who were sweeping the
corpse field. Most of them had what was more like plates made of ceramite and
lesser metals strapped to their frames than any true power armor.
"Inform me of any possible remains of a Legion Pureblood," Rukiel ordered as he
marched past the Prime. "Scout our surroundings and make sure the area is
completely secure and clean of enemies. Quickly, we don't have time to waste."

"By your will, Lord."

The Prime retreated to comply with Rukiel's orders and Rukiel continued to tread on
the battle scarred soil, flanked by Mortian, Torash, Armadius and the 1st Squad of
the Spawnkin.

The rest of the warband had scattered to investigate the area or scavenge the
battle ground. Spawn Squad Dimarian was providing overwatch from a vantage point
with their scavenged Heavy Stuppers and Heavy Bolter, accompanied by the Autocannon
carrying Nikau, while Squad Shakal was spreading out to cover the area.

Rest of the Purebloods and Tseren were going through the bodies, using the right
for the first pick of the war's spoils granted by their status. Whatever was left
after true Astartes had taken their claim would them be given to the Spawns to
scavenge.

Rukiel could see Verion kneeling by a fallen World Eater, his helmet discarded and
crimson red blood spilling onto the white plate of the dead servant of the Corpse
Emperor as he indulged in the Astartes' ichor.

"We have Purebloods!" Came the shout of Kerverax not too long after. Rukiel headed
that way instantly, motioning Arkmadius forward. They reached Kerverax who was
looming over two power armored bodies in very different conditions.

One of the black clad bodies was otherwise very intact, except the head was gone,
leaving behind an enormous hole in the body's torso as if the internal organs had
exploded through the warrior's throat.

The other was little more than a pile of twisted meat and ceramite, the limbs
hanging from their sockets by only few scraps of bone and sinew, meat shredded as
if it had gone through a forest of chainswords.

"Arkmadius," Rukiel said, and the Harvester stepped forth to perform his duty upon
these fallen sons of Corax. The Legionnaire took their flesh and blood, adding them
to his carrion chain around his neck, then proceeded to make an attempt to harvest
the geneseed from the other. The one missing its internal organs was clearly beyond
such a deed.

"I count 23 World Eater corpses," Skiessax informed Rukiel as he joined the small
group of Purebloods. "Multiple different unit markings, at least from five
different squads. This was a larger fight then there are bodies here.

Rukiel turned from the two dead gene brothers lying at his feet. "Take their
wargear and load the equipment into my Storm Eagle after they have been harvested.
Leave the bodies to carrion birds," He said to the winged Kia-prime.

"My Lord," the Prime said, bowed and then turned to instruct its lesser kin.

There were maybe couple hundred Spawn corpses here, much less than Dark Blood would
have been able to field. Rukiel himself would have been able to have that many
onboard Raptor's Shroud, and Second Shadow had been a much larger ship. There were
also no signs of other Purebloods beside these two, and no signs of their leader
Khulkis. The corpses were also relatively fresh, certainly two days old at most,
probably less.
"Shall I harvest the XIIth corpses as well?" Arkmadius asked when he was done with
his duty with the Purebloods.

Rukiel only nodded, and Arkmadius moved to the closest white and blue armored
posthuman body, settling down and starting to cut the neck area open with his
Narthecium. They were loyalist genseed, something Rukiel would have little use
himself since he would never even dream of building an Astartes force from a
loyalist bloodline, but they could be traded in the Eye for a very good price.

"The Eaters have not harvested their own fallen yet," Rukiel pointed out as he
scanned the surrounding scenery. "And they are nowhere to be seen."

"They would not just abandon their gene legacy," Skiessax agreed.

"Which means they were expecting to return here soon," Rukiel continued. "The
battle was still being fought and the fallen were temporarily left behind."

"So where did they go?" Torash asked.

"I believe I can answer that question," Came the voice of Kerverax from the vox
where he had been listening to the exchange. The other Purebloods joined their
brother on the eastern edge of the canyon. Kerverax was standing in front of three
massive cavern ends, giant holes that lead deep into the depths of solid stone.

Rukiel could instantly see what Kerverax had been talking about. One of the gaping
black maws into the rock was littered with more bodies, mostly Spawnkin but a
single white clad body marked a fallen slave of the Corpse Emperor in their midst.

"They retreated to the caves," Kerverax pointed out the most likely scenario. "The
World Eaters were killing them here so they retreated the only way they had left."

"They went down there, and the Eaters went after them," Rukiel agreed. He could
feel something, something just barely real tugging his mind and pulling him into
the cavern filled with the dead. The Relic was down there somewhere, he was certain
of it. "And we are going to follow."

Chapter 3

"

Did the Emperor ever have to contemplate such a thing? Was there a moment when he
looked upon his work and wondered who or what had given him the right to pursue
it?"

-Unknown

The caverns were vast, much larger than Rukiel had first thought. The path his
warband was currently traveling would have been wide enough for two Land Riders to
tread side by side. There were parts were a Warhound Scout Titan could have stood
under the stone ceiling. At times they arrived to even greater caverns, massive
spaces like battleship hangar bays. Sometimes there were no ceiling at all, and the
blue-gray sky could be seen far above them trough a huge fissure or collapsed part
of the cave. Sometimes the cracks in the rock lead downwards, revealing a fiery
glow of volcanic magma deep below them, ash and smoke rising up to meet them.

The caves were rather chaotic, sometimes large, sometimes narrow. Rukiel was not
sure if they were natural or not, caused by high tectonic activity and craft of
nature. The sheer magnitude and complexity of the cave system made him consider
that maybe they were carved by some local fauna of the planet, or that they were
left behind by some long gone civilisation.

They came across Spawnkin bodies from time to time, signs that they were on the
right path in the somewhat labyrinthine caverns of rock. But there was nothing
living that they came across. No Spawn Marines. No Purebloods. No World Eaters.
There was silence and darkness there, and nothing more.

Until silence and darkness was no more.

"Loyalists!" Kerverax cried out after hours of eventless marching, a heartbeat

before the stony walls of the cave lit up with bolter fire.

The vanguard of squad Shakal died in an instant, the three scouting Spawns ripped
apart by a volley of disciplined and precise shower of mass reactive shells.

Warband's boltguns and lesser weapons of the Spawns came up is an instant,

responding to the fire coming from ahead. Mass reactives responded in kind alonside
the autogun bullets, suppressing the World Eaters and forced them to pull back into
the cover of the rocks and stalagmite formation that they were hiding behind.

"Shakal, charge and swarm them!" Rukiel cried out, ordering the Shakal Spawnkin to
advance rather than stay in the wide corridor waiting to be shot.

"I count four Marines!" Skiessax yelled, reloading his boltgun and pulling his
chainsword from his belt's mag-lock. "Just a combat squad, we can kill them."

Rukiel agreed. Four World Eaters they could deal with. "Torash, Verion, Skiessax.
Bring me their heads!"

"My lord!" Torash roared, his bolt pistol barking as he pushed a Spawn aside and
started rushing towards the rocks. Verion was not far behind, his Talon and combat
swords raised in readiness, Skiessax coming up in the rear.

The rest of the warband stopped their fire as squad Shakal reached the rocks,
moving over and around them as a far more numerous tide than the World Eaters,
outnumbering the loyalist at least five to one. But the first blood of melee that
was ripped into the cavern's floor did not come from the white clad Astartes.

The leading Spawns died into the overwatch fire of the Eaters, and the ones behind
them died as they reached their enemies, totally smashed back by disciplined
bracing and counter attack. Spawns however pushed through their dead kindred with
sheer numbers, engaging the World Eaters in brutal melee combat

Engaging the World Eaters in brutal melee combat. Or at least it could be said that
the World Eaters engaged the Spawn Marines. Chainswords and combat blades raised,
the World Eaters met the Spawnkin defiantly like a rock meeting the wave of an
ocean. They stood their ground, roaring their battle cries as they endured under
the blows of the Spawns and returned every strike in kind and then some.

The blades and other close combat weapons of the Spawns clawed at the white
ceramite, seeking purchase and weak points, and the weapons in those white hands
spilled the blood of the Spawns in return. The Eaters were standing as a one unit,
covering and supporting each other as the Spawns threw themselves at their iron
four man phalanx.

The Eaters had killed a third of the Spawns before the first of their warrior's
fell, not dead but too wounded by the endless strikes of the blades to stand any
longer with his brothers. As he collapsed, so did the previously implacable defence
against the Raven Guard. That opening was enough for Torash.

The chainaxe of the Pureblood came wildly from the side, ripping out the throat of
the first white and blue Astartes. A brother of the half decapitated tried to turn
to strike an avenging blow at Torash, but a well placed bolt from Skiessax's pistol
rocked his helmeted head aside.

Verion took the second warrior, ramming his iron talong through the cabling and
fibre muscles of the world Eater's abdomen. The claws went deep, the excellent blow
against a disoriented foe smashing deep and upwards his torso, finally breaking out
the same way clenching red internal organs and guts of the loyalist.

The last of the False Emperor's dogs standing died when Torash hacked him to pieces
against the tide of the Spawnkin stabbing his backside. The Eater died, and
suddenly the fight was over, just as suddenly as it had begun. Roars of chain
weapons died down and impacts of metal against metal ceased. Then it was silence
and darkness again.

"Wait," Kerverax said as Skiessax lifted his bolt pistol to execute wounded World
Eater lying on the ground, defiantly trying to get up "I have a question for him."

Skiessax stared at his brother for a moment but lowered his sidearm for now.

Kerverax placed his armored boot on top of the World Eater's cracked chest plate,
leaning down towards the white helmet staring hatefully up at him. "There is
something that has been puzzled me since the age of Crusade, but I was never
deployed alongside any elements of the XIIth, nor did I face your lot during the
Heresy. So, my question for you servant of the Corpse on a Throne, is why do you
call yourself World Eaters?"

Rukiel half expected the loyalist not to answer, a disciplined warrior like a World
Eater could not be interrogated to reveal anything he did not want to, but there
came a grunt filled with disgust behind the white helmet's vox grill.

"It is not something that a traitorous monster like you could ever understand..."

"Humor me," Kerverax snarled.

The World Eater let out sounds like there was something stuck in his throat before
answering. "It is our eternal reminder of our power and responsibility. What is in
our power to do, is in our power not to do…"

Kerverax stared down at the wounded Astartes for a silent moment. "You are right. I
don't understand." He raised from looming over the fallen warrior and raised his
bolter to put two bolt shells through the grill of the loyalists helmet.

"Why did they fire at us?" Skiessax asked as he watched Verion sink his elongated
teeth into the still warm meat of a dead World Eater, releasing a river of bright
crimson highly oxygenated blood.

"Because we are their enemies?" Mortain said with the raised eyebrow audible behind
his dark helmet.

Skiessax glanced at the Power Fisted marine with a suffering look. "I mean why did
they attack us here and now. They clearly could have never in any scenario killed
all of us. Yet they still attacked us, outnumbered and outgunned more than ten to
one. Last time I checked, the World Eaters were not famous for mindlessly engaging
any enemies within their sight."
"They were holding this tunnel…" Rukiel said, observing the position and the
splitting pathways around them. "They were holding this position and we just
wandered right into them. They were not expecting us. They had no idea a force of
our size would just emerge from the darkness."

"Then they should have retreated." Kerverax grunted. "They had no chances of
victory, so they should have run, maybe regroup with the rest of their forces."

"That other way is a dead end," Torash said gesturing to a tunnel diverging from
near the position where the loyalists had died. "Maybe they considered themselves
to be back against a wall, we don't know what is in the other direction."

"Maybe they were lost." Torash suggested, but the Rukiel highly doubted that.

"Kerverax is right. They should have run. And we would have spotted them and chased
them down if they had, and killed them anyway. They would not have escaped us
alive."

"So they decided to sell their hides facing their death head on?" Skiessax asked.

Rukiel steared into the darkness of the tunnel. "Maybe. Or they covered someone."

"Covered someone?" Mortian growled.

"There were four of them," Rukiel pointed out, nodding at the white and blue clad
bodies being currently harvested by Arkmadius and scavenged by Tseren and Nikau.
The vox was quite useless this deep inside the crust of the world, so reliable long
range communication required messengers. "Usually in most circumstances combat
squad size is five. Where is the last one?"

"Maybe there were four because of casualties," Skiessax suggested. "Or maybe they
just decided to have a combat squad of that size. It is not like World Eaters
follow some kind of rigorous organization standards beyond ability to adapt."

"Maybe, maybe." Rukiel mutered. He was having a bad feeling from this encounter.
"Let's hope you are right, brother."

Squad Shakal had lost 13 Spawns to the World Eaters, a tad less than fifth of all
the clones Rukiel had with him. And they had only killed four of the loyalists.
Rukiel would not have minded if they did not catch another glimpse of the white and
blue dogs of the Corpse on a Throne.

They continued onwards into the dark depths. It seemed the caverns were getting
more spacious the further they made their way. Large pockets size of cathedrals
were getting more and more common, as were the pits into the infernal deeps of the
world.

They also stopped encountering Spawn corpses at some point, navigating the many
cave crossroads based on signs of recent treading by armored boots or sometimes
pure instinct of Rukiel. Yet despite the seeming lack of progress or signs of life,
Rukiel felt in his mind that they were getting closer. Never since the Great
Betrayal and the direct leadership of the Ravenlord had he felt what he was feeling
now. Like there was something small in his mind waking after long hibernation, long
enough that he had forgotten that he was able to feel something like it. The
feeling was exalting. Rukiel wondered if it had something to do with the Relic and
the link to the Primarch. He also wondered if the others were feeling it as well,
but none of them had at least mentioned anything unusual.

"Halt," Rukiel snapped suddenly.

Every Astartes and their cloned shadow came to an abrupt stop, scanning in
alertness their surroundings for any signs of danger.

"What is it?" Tseren asked with a whisper, his Stalker Bolter slowly seeping the
warband's flanks that were wide in this particular part of the caverns.

"We are not alone..." Kerverax hissed, bolter lowered but in readiness.

Rukiel said nothing to disturb the sudden silence, merely waiting with his eye
locked into the darkness ahead of them.

"You are not World Eaters…" came a groaning voice from the darkness, and two
transhuman figures stepped forth from behind a massive pile of collapsed stone
rubble. All weapons of the warband turned to them, but Rukiel did not order them to
fire.

The two stranger were clad in the black of the Legion, the mighty Raven depicted in
many parts of their battle worn Power Armor. One of them was armed with a blood
drenched chain blade, whereas the other only held onto a long combat knife, bolter
without a magazine hanging from his belt.

"Hail, brothers," Rukiel said, stepping through the protective ring of Spawnkin and
removing his helmet into a crock of his arm, Shadower resting calmly against his
right pauldron. "I heard you had a bit of a feud with the XIIth Legion down here."

The warrior on the left with the combat knife removed his helmet, revealing an ash
pale skin and black eye of a Legion Pureblood. The one with the chainsword did not
mimic the gesture.

"I am surprise to see fellow Legionnaires here," the bare headed one said, surprise
flavoring his voice. "Where did you come from ?"

"We happened upon the system by pure coincidence," Rukiel replied with a faint
smile. "I am Rukiel Varkhian, lord of the Obsidian Talons of the Ravenlord."

"Lharkus," The helmetless gene brother spoke his name. "This is Cyroth. We are of
the Dark Blood, under the command of lord Khulkis the Harbinger."

"We witnessed the end of your Strike Cruiser at the hand of the World Eaters,"
Rukiel said with a tone that could be considered regretful. "Looks like you are
stranded on this planet. Where is Khulkis?"

"No idea," Cyroth grunted. "We have not seen him since he fled down to these
caverns with a horde of World Eaters after him."

"We killed the few loyalists left behind on the surface and then followed into
these caves after we heard our Ship got destroyed." Lharkus continued. "Lost all
our remaining Spawn Marines to the Eaters in these cursed tunnels."

"So you have no idea where Khulkis is?" Rukiel asked. "Or if he is even still on
this side of the Empyrean's veil."

"Have not seen him or the rest of the warband in a long while. Just some more World
Eaters here and there. I think they are trying to have a folding kill formation
around us," Lharkus said, spatting on the floor. "So what are you doing here?"

"We came here to secure relic of the Legion," Rukiel spoke while tilting his head a
little. "Can't let let it fall to the hands of the World Eaters."
"So you know of the relic..." Lharkus said.

"It belongs to Khulkis and the Dark Blood." Cyroth growled. "We found it, it is
ours."

"It is not yours, nor the XIXth Legion's if Khulkis goes and dies with it to the
Corpse Emperor's hounds," Rukiel growled back. "He already lost his ship and now
his forces are getting killed down in these corpse caverns. We already saw the two
dead Purebloods of the Legion on the surface!"

"We will survive," Cyroth replied with his head held high."We will emerge from this
caves and Khulkis will lead us to the human settlements. Then we take control of
them and wait for the Imperium to arrive for tithing so we can steal their ship and
leave this desolate rock with the relic."

"The Dark Blood is never getting out of here," Rukiel snarled. "Khulkis went and
got the warband killed on his world. I am trying to salvage the Legion's treasure
out of this mess." Rukiel fixed his helmet back on to his head. "You are free to
join the Obsidian Talons if you ever want to get out of this rock alive, brothers.
I would welcome you into my forces. Pure-blooded sons of Corax should not be wasted
upon this meaningless world anymore."

"Khulkis lives. Dark Blood will prevail. I would not serve under someone like you
who mingles with lesser bloodlines and turncoats," Cyroth snarled as he pointted at
Tseren and Verion standing behind Rukiel.

Rukiel sighed. "As you wish," he replied, spun the Shadower in a sudden flash of
movement and rammed the power spear through Cyroth's helmet and skull. The
disruption field of the adamantium tip impaled the helmet, obliterating the head
and killing Cyroth instantly. It was a shame to spill precious Legion blood, but
Rukiel was in a hurry here, the relic of the Ravenlord was at stake, and he could
not leave an unknown variable like Cyroth behind his back.

Rukiel barely had enough time to pull his weapon from the death blow when the
headless body of the Pureblood bursted. The limbs seemed to turn into a molten
black wax for a heartbeat before they ripped apart like black oil as Rukiel and
Lharkus stepped back.

The Unkind clawed themselves into reality, tiny formless monsters that seemed to be
spitting out from the sockets and throat of the hissing power armor. The Neverborn
did not seem to be able to decide whether to be solid, liquid or made of gas,
seemingly exchanging between all of them every second. They did not scream or roar
as they were granted entrance into the material universe. They were silent as
ghosts, and the reality around them seemed colder and more soundless than the void
of space.

They scattered from the dead Pureblood's body, madly seeking something to fall upon
from the cave around them. The only thing they found was Rukiel's unflinching gaze.
The tiny dark horrors, the largest the size of a orkoid grotling but rapidly
growing stopped and beheld the black clad Astartes looming over them, observing
with eyeless attention. Rukiel just stared down upon them as they froze to
stillness under his searing gaze, daring them to try anything.

Then they started to disappear, collapsing back to the realm of insanity that they
had spawned from. In the next moment they were gone, leaving behind only darkness
and nothing more.

Rukiel lifted his gaze to Lharkus. "And you, brother?"

"I am with the Obidian Talons from now on." Lharkus replied with a hint of caution
as he attached his helmet back to his gorget again.

"I am pleased to hear that," Rukiel said with a smile behind his helmet. "Follow me
and you have a place in my warband and on board my ship, Lharkus."

"Yes, lord."

"Arkmadius, harvest these remains of a fallen son of the Ravenlord," Rukiel said
solemnly as he begun to walk forward along the cavern again. The warband started
moving along with him, Arkmadius stopping for a moment to do his duty, and Lharkus
remaining back for just enough time to claim the fallen chainsword from the power
armored corpse.

"I smell blood," Verion suddenly growled.

"You smell blood?" Rukiel asked. Sure, Verion was of the Angels and was wearing a
helmet that probably enhanced his senses, but he had kept quiet till now.

"Yes. Astartes blood. A lot of it."

"Where?"

"Right ahead. I estimate 500 meters."

"I see. Halt!" Rukiel stopped the warband once more. "Kerverax, Tseren," Rukiel
called out as he turned to the Pureblood and the son of the Khan. "There is
something ahead, about 500 meters. Scout ahead and tell me what's out there."

"By your will lord," Kerverax declared before moving forward along the tunnel with
fast predatory grace that caused barely any noise. Tseren followed after, taking a
much more careful approach as his scanned the darkness ahead with the scope of his
Stalker Bolter.

"Is this it?" Mortain asked as he grasped his power ifst open and close.

"Could be," Rukiel replied. The feeling in his head was now very strong and stable,
making his assume he was close. This close proximity was making his feel the same
when he looked upon the greatest Spire of the nest world. There was anticipation
coursing through his black veins, an urge that faintly pressed him to move
forwards. But he waited. He waited patiently, not wanting to rush right into World
Eater ambush in these dark corridors.

It did not take long for Kerverax to return. Tseren had most likely remained behind
to watchover whatever they had found.

"Talk to me Kerverax!" Rukiel snapped and stepped forward in anticipation."What did

you find?"

Kerverax came to halt, visible trembling for some reason. The excitement was
apparent in the voice that came through the grill of his helmet. "A graveyard, my
lord…"

Kerverax was not exaggerating.

Rukiel and the warband emerged into a humongous cavern, a fissure in the ground
framed by rays of pale daylight from a crack somewhere far above. There were
multiple magma pits dotting the area, as well as dozen other cave entrances along
the edges of the space. Massive rock formations were scattered all around, making
the cave seem filled with different angles, cover and possible ambush points.

And corpses. Lots and lots of corpses.

The ground, the elevated areas and slopes, all full of black Spankin bodies. Pieces
of various forms or armor and mutations were littering the ground, splattered with
blood of varying brightness and color. There were at least 300 of them, maybe more,
and even then some had probably fallen into the gasm of fiery death so there had
been more.

Rukiel joined Tseren who was observing from an elevated position at the end of the
tunnel the warband emerged from, like a grand balcony to overseer the field of
death.

"17 World Eater corpses, my lord" Tseren spoke without stopping observing the cave
through his weapon's scope. "They seem to be harvested of geneseed. I am also
seeing couple of corpses and… things, that might have once been Purebloods."

"No loyalist presence?" Rukiel asked.

"No. Not a living thing down there," Tseren replied. "This looks like last stand of
Khulkis. There might be stranglers like the ones we encountered but I am pretty
sure this is the most of the warband."

"I think so too. Nikau!" Rukiel called out and the black clad Legionnaire slumbered
to them with this large Autocannon hefted along. "Take the havoc Spawns of squad
Dimarian, hold this position and oversee the area with Tseren. The rest of us will
go down there."

"Yes," Nikau rasped silently and proceeded to take Rukiel's place along the ledge,
bracing his Autocannon over a large boulder. The Heavy stubbers and the heavy
bolter of Dimarian joined him, forming a strong point of heavy firepower.

Rukiel turned to Skiessax "Lead the rest down there and search the area. Find the
relic!" Rukiel did not wait for reply, already leaping over the ledge, jump pack
igniting. "Torash, Mortian! With me!"

Havocs overwatching the area, the warband descended down upon the field of fallen.
Rukiel was the first among the corpses, coming down with his jump pack with Torash
and Mortian in tow. Spawnkin spread out around him, fervently searching the
treasure of their master.

It was here. Rukiel could feel it. It was in this cave chamber, somewhere among the
bodies and pieces. Its aura was strong but vast and thin, so Rukiel could not
pinpoint its location no matter how much he tried to harness his meager sixth
sense. But it was here. He would find it. It would be his.

"You think there might be Power Weapons among this carnage?" Mortian asked ask he
glanced around.

"You already have a Power Fist," Torash snarled, clenching his chainaxe.

"You can never have too many Power Weapon," Mortian grunted. "Think about if there
was a Lightning Claw somewhere here. Then I would have a fist in the other hand and
a claw in the other. Think about it, brother. Think about it…"

Torash was silent for a moment.

"Are you thinking about it?"

"...Yes"

"Be silent and find the relic!" Rukiel snapped, kicking aside a corpse of a Spawn
Marine that was in his way, causing the dead remains to fall into a magma pit
somewhere far below. "Remember what we are here for. The relic is all that
matters."

The Spawnkin and rest of the Warband were scouring the battlefield, throwing around
torn flesh and pieces of armor. Kerverax lifted his head some distance away and
looked at Rukiel. "The Eaters were here earlier, most of their valuable equipment
is taken along with their geneseed," the Pureblood said trough cracking vox.

"Keep. Looking." Rukiel replied replied with heavy words. "It is here. Tseren,
where is the closest Pureblood?!"

"30 meters straight ahead, you can't miss it when you get there. He left a mess as
he went."

Tseren was not wrong. The black warrior was pinned between three white clad World
Eaters, all four of them on their knees to the ground, almost hidden by surrounding
rock and corpses.

The Pureblood was still clenching two chainswords that he had rammed into the
chests of two of the loyalists. The loyalists had done the same to him.

Curious thing was that the Pureblood had not exploded in some way, he was still
upright and relatively whole with the Eaters folding over him like some pyramidical
statues. Whatever had crawled out of the Purebloods flesh had simple went through
his assailants. The Purebloods armor was cracked, whole chest area open, bleeding
oil like oozed that was coating also the Eaters where his hands were touching them.
There were holes in the white and blue careamite as well, as if there had been
plasma detonation in their center that had simply evaporated parts of their bodies
right with it, passing and melting trough like they were not even there. One of the
Eaters was missing its head that seemed like it had been ripped off with a melta
cutter. The black oily stuff was still flowing all all over the area at their feet.

"He died offering his enemy the same honor." Mortian mused as he circled the four
kneeling corpses, carefully staying away from the black ooze pouring from the
Pureblood's chest cavity.

"He is using two chainswords. No signs of the relic," Torash snarled.

"It is not Khulkis," Rukiel said. "Arkmadius will deal with him, keep looking.
Tseren, where is the next-"

"My Lord," Came the voice of Kerverax, cutting Rukiel off. "I believe I found
Khulkis!"

Rukiel was moving in an instant, his jump pack carrying him over to Kerverax in
seconds.

"Lharkus, get in here and tell me if this is Khulkis!" Rukiel roared as reached the
dead Pureblood that Kerverax and Skiessax were looming over. Rukiel stepped past
them, examining the dead warrior in front of him.

The black power armor was slumping against a rocky wall, sitting with its head
slightly hanging limplyto its side. It was perhaps the best preserved Pureblood
copse Rukile had seen so far, arguably. It was not torn asunder at any specific
points, rather it was full of tiny holes that dotted its surface in the thousands,
as if worms made of acid had crawled from his flesh and through his armor. The
Armor was completely ruined, but it was still whole.

The importance of the dead son of Ravenlord was clear from his warger. It was the
most decorated, most well crafted of the dead so far. It had a cloak made of
something that looked half black silk and feathers. Its helmet was framed by a
silvery crest and onyx feather wings that lined the helmet. Dead retinal lenses
stared emptily at Rukiel's feet.

"Lharkus! Is. It. Him?"

The pureblood came running, holding a boltgun he had scavenged from the dead. He
stopped next to his new lord and glanced at the corpse. He did not ponder his
answer for long. "It is Khulkis."

Rukiel searched the body with his gaze. There was no weapons on it or in its
immediate vicinity. Not Khulkis' own weapons. Nor the relic. Rukiel grabbed the
armored body lifting it and turning it over before tossing it onto the ground next
to it, searching the area where it had laid.

Where was it? Where was the Relic?! It close, he could feel it.

"It is here!" Rukiel growled as he glanced at the Pureblood corpse at his feet, not
even bothering to tell Arkmadius to harvest it. "Keep searching, the Relic is here!
Find it!"

The Astartes around him scattered, spreading out to look for the treasure among the
dead.

Rukiel kept pacing in a circle, finally lifting his spear and smashing through the
chest of Khulkis' Power Armor in a fit of anger.

Where was his prize?! He had come this far and could feel it almost in his gasp. It
was here somewhere, he would just have to find it. He would find it. He would not
leave until he was holding it in his own hands.

It was at that moment the first cracks of bolter fire boomed across the cave,
lighting up the walls with muzzle flashes.

"World Eaters!" came the voice of shouting Tseren barely a heartbeat after as the
cave was filled with a cacophony of weapon dispersions.

Chapter 4

"Triumph or Perish."

-Raven Guard motto

Rukiel rushed behind the closest large rock, just as he started hearing echoing
sounds of mass reactive bolt shells hitting against armor and softer targets. Other
Purebloods in his vicinity also took cover, but the Spawnkin were not so autonomous
to react, some still seeming to wonder if they should continue searching for the
relic despite the arrival of their enemies. Primes were doing good job organizing
their lesser kin that they were close to, but some were still uselessly lingering
around.
"Take cover and fire upon the enemy!" Rukiel roared from his helmet's amplifying
vox ports that carried well enough over the sound of gunfire. "Hold your ground and
keep the enemy away! Engage if charged upon!"

Rukiel peaked around the side of the bouder, catching sight of multiple white and
blue armored transhumans moving in from one of the dark tunnels that had moment ago
been empty. They were spreading to both sides of their entry point, creating an
expanding formation that spread out to cover the advance of their brothers as well
as to encompass more line of fire.

Heavy fire from squad Dimarian's Havocs along with Nikau was keeping the enemy
somewhat suppressed, and Rukiel even saw one of the World Eaters go down as a lucky
Autocannon shot punched through the gorget and into the chest cavity of the
loyalist warrior.

But there were many of them. Many squads of World Eaters, with more rushing into
the cavern every passing moment. They would outnumber the Raven Guard any moment
and force themselves upon the sons of Corax.

Fortunately, the cave was filled with so much rocks and rubble that there were
plenty of cover, so the World Eaters could not just gun them all down. The Spawns
were digging into good cover, making them hard to remove. The situation was bad,
but they were not completely doomed yet.

"Nikau! Tseren! Keep the World Eaters from advancing! I don't want them charging
and engaging us at melee!"

"We are trying," came the voice of Tseren. "46 World Eaters and counting. They will
come through with sheer numbers sooner or later."

"Keep them at bay!" Rukiel snarled. "Skiessax, can we engage any of them in
preemptive melee?"

"With jump packs definitely, but for the rest of us without them it would be
impossible without begging to be shot. Too many guns pointed at us and too few in
position to charge."

Rukiel snarled in frustration. "Everyone, try to position yourselves to that you

can kill them when they charge the Spawns! If we can kill them when they are
engage-"

"Enemy Devastators!" came the cry of Tseren and soon Rukiel could hear the slightly
distinctive sound of at least two new heavy bolters adding their fire to the bolt
storm. Rukiel saw the high vantage position of Tseren, Nikau and Squad Dimarian
being washed over by heavy shower of large mass reactives. "They are pinning us!"

"Kill the Devastators!" Rukiel roared. "Everyone, try to get a shot from your
position. Tseren, get up and kill them!"

There was a long litany of angry sounding Chogorian, but the white helmet of the
White Scar peaked over their highly lit up cover. Rukiel could not hear, but he
could almost sense the lone Stalker Bolter shot that left its weapon's barrel. One
of the Heavy Bolters suddenly went silent, and as Rukiel peaked over cover he could
see and white and blue armored heavy weapon specialist collapse.

"Did you see that shot?!" came the laugh of Tseren.

"Incoming," said Nikau almost instantly after, and Rukiel saw how he threw himself
and his Autocannon over the ledge of the vantage point and down to the lower cave.
Just before a bright mini sun fired by a plasma cannon annihilated his last
position, taking with him Squad Dimarian's Havocs and well as Tseren whose laughter
was abruptly cut off.

The heavy weapon fire on the side of the Raven Guard stopped. And the World Eaters
charged.

The shape of the fight changed instantly when the Havocs died in plasma fire. The
World Eaters charged as one, their own heavy support providing cover and keeping
the Raven Guard's heads down.

There was a litany of curses when a bolt shell impacted against Mortian's left
pauldron, flinching him back. "Loyalist scum!" He roared as he emptied his bolt
pistol into the incoming World Eaters.

"Counter charge fire and engaged in melee when in range!" Rukiel bellowed from his
vox amplifiers. "Kill them! For the Ravenlord!"

"Here they come!" Kerverax shrieked as he lobbed all his frakk grenades over a rock
into the surging tide of World Eaters. The explosives impacted with violent
detonations, shrapnel showering the loyalists in the impact area but slowing only
couple of them down.

"Send them to the dark afterlife, brothers!" Rukiel roared as he lifted his
Shadower, pointing the adamantium tip of the power spear into the coming enemy.
"Death to the False Emperor!"

"Death to the False Emperor!" Purebloods and even some of the Spawnkin roared.
"Death to the False Emperor! Death to the False Emperor and all his slaves!"

"For the Emperor and and Imperium!" the World Eaters shouted from the top of their
transhuman lungs as they came.

Then the melee began, and there was blood. A lot of blood.

The World Eater that tried to take Rukiel's head with his roaring chainaxe suddenly
found his own head missing, thanks to the superior range of Rukiel's power spear.
The sharp tip slipped under the white helmet, ripping up and taking the head off in
a shower of gore and metal bits. The loyalist behind the first one did not even get
to swing his chainsword when Mortian smashed him into the other side of the cave
with his monstrously powerful powerfist.

Torash actually stole the initiative from the World Eaters, boosting with his jump
pack right into the coming trio of World Eaters and literally disarming the leading
one from the wrist where the Pureblood's chain axe found the weak joint. He
received a bolt to the side of his helmet for his bold move and an enemy chainaxe
ravaged across his pauldron, before Rukiel surged forward to impale the chest of
the loyalist hound. The last of the Eaters died when he tried to contest the impact
power of Mortian's power fist with a standard chainsword. He lost that one.

Rukeil ripped his spear away from the bloody corpse and took in his surroundings,
which had changed a lot in the handful of second since he had slayed the first
World Eater. He and his two bodyguards had killed the loyalists coming at them
without trouble, but that was to be expected, they held the warband's best
equipment and weapons. Power weapons won brawls. The others without such weapons
were not as fortunate, especially in the cases when the superior technology was in
the hands of the World Eaters.
The Spawn Marines were getting butchered. For most of them, the fire they had
poured into the coming enemy was the final damage they ever did to the loyalist
dogs. The World Eaters saw them, charged them, reached them and killed them with
such efficiency it actually caused disturbance in Rukiel's mind that a lesser being
would have experienced as horror.

The World Eaters outclassed and outnumbered the Spawnkin. The result was obvious
from the start. Spawns put up a fight as they were brutally torn to pieces, but
they did little to actually harm a dedicated and disciplined tide of World Eaters.
You either broke the incredible synergy of the World Eaters when they reached you,
or they broke you. In most cases they broke you if you gave them the chance to get
that far.

There was a sound, like a grinding pop in the air, and Rukiel saw a World Eater
sergeant take overwhelmed Skiessax's head with a power axe. The rupture of flesh
did not stop into the neck area as Skiessax body convulsed like some unstable
chemical reacion before splitting clean in half without any sound of suffering
metal. The things that emerged from the red and black insides of the dead Pureblood
surged at the World Eater, growing from the size of a servo skull into human
proportions in an heatbeat. There were many of them, impossible to count in the
lightless aura they projected and the speed they tore into the World Eater Sergeant
and the warriors around him. Where the Spawnkin dead at their feet had failed, the
Unkind released from beyond the Veil did not. They leached onto the enemies of the
Raven Guard, unnatural half formless claws, tentacles, pincers and fang shredding
the white and blue ceramite.

Rukiel turned his face from the death of one of his Purebloods, curses pouring from
his mouth. "Arkmadius, harvest Skiessax!" he screamed into the vox as he saw
Arkmadius taking cover just behind the position where the Unkind where showing the
World Eaters their violent thanks for releasing them. Rukiel did not see if the
warband's harvester moved or not to comply, for Mortian suddenly snarled right
beside Rukiel something that made him instantly change the target of his attention.

"Tell me that is not a sound of a Terminator," Mortian said as heavy metallic

footsteps could be heard coming right at them from behind the rock they used for
cover.

It was not a Terminator. There were two of them. Devourers. Warp curse it,
Devourers...

"Kill them," Rukiel said with a rather meek voice and rapidly backed away as the
two massive Astartes in ancient tactical dreadnought armor came crashing right
through the rock they had used for cover, roaring first in Nagrakali and then in
gothic. "WE ARE THE EATERS OF WORLDS! DIE TRAITORS!"

Rukiel used his jump pack to boost away just as the lightning claw of the first
Devourer slashed at him. Torash took the chance to strike with his chain axe at the
side of the Terminator, which caused as much damage as one might expect. Torash
barely got out of the way by boosting same way as Rukiel when the pair of lightning
claws went for him next.

The Devourer with a poweraxe and chainfist was taking on Mortian, who was actually
able keep the hulking warrior at bay with his own powerfist.

"Surround and slay them!" Rukiel yelled as he slashed with his power spear, slicing
away part of the Devourer's shoulder plate. "There is three of us and two of them!"

"Foul traitors!" the claw pair terminator said as he came at Rukiel, talons
crackling with disruption field thunder. Rukiel smashed the first claw aside,
dodging the next while Torash slashed with his axe, trying to reach vulnerable
joints of the armor.

The Devourer deflected Rukiel's spear thrust, using his bulk to simultaneously bash
Torash back in a surprising show of agility and martial skill. And tactical
cooperation.

The Devourer that was engaged with Mortian turned around with implacable timing to
face the Pureblood that was send into his direction, lifting his chain fist and
drove it right through Torash's right flank, the massive fist exploding through the
Pureblood's chest plate. Right side of Torash became a crater of gore, metal, and
emerging Warp spawns.

The Unkind slipped through the veil in a moment, they were on the Devourer in the
other. And while the black things leached onto the Terminator, it was not fast
enough to return its facing back to the power fisted Astartes it had turned its
back to.

Mortian's power fist came down like the shell of a bombardment canon, the brutal
uppercut crushing and buckling the back and head of the Devourer. The terminator
died instantly as its whole upper body collapsed under the blow, and the Unkind
tore apart what was left.

Mortian dived out of the way of the remaining Devourer. It was two against one now,
since some of the unkind were too weak and returned to the Warp, and the remaining
ones scattered out to engage any targets around them, heedless of Rukiel and the
other two Astartes.

But the World Eater was not alone. He was surrounded by allies.

The stream of boltshells smashed into the flank of Mortian. He was rocked back by
the weapon burst, barely managing to avoid the World Eater's lightning claws, that
actually managed to slice away part of his leg plate.

Rukiel took a quick look around him. The Spawns were almost all dead. handful were
still holding back positions with some Primes in the edge of the cave, but all the
others were dead or dying. The Purebloods, Verion and Nikau were scattered around
the cave's many rock formations, holding their own or diving between cover to
prevent the World Eaters from swarming them. Like they were all around Rukiel.

"Mortian, disengage!" Rukiel screamed. "They have us in their bolter sights!"

Rukiel engaged his jump pack, taking a wild jump into the air to escape the hail of
bolts that the World Eaters just send at him. Mortian followed, cracking shots from
his bolt pistol as he went.

The thrust of the jump pack carried Rukiel onto the other side of the cave, right
where some of the last Spawns were holding on against World Eaters. Rukiel spun his
spear and then came down in a wild crash, driving Shadower right through the chest
of one of the World Eaters. He twisted the spear so it ravaged the internal organs,
the ripped it free and cut of the head of another loyalist in a one fluid motion.

A burst of bolt shells impacted Rukiel's chest plate, chipping off ceramite as one
of the last World Eaters in vicinity fired his bolt pistol and charged Rukiel. He
never got to to him as Mortian came down from the air, turning him into gore and
metal pulp with his power fist.

Rukiel took a moment to take in the battlefield. Kerverax and Arkmadius were taking
cover on his left, emptying bolt shells into every World Eaters that dared to dream
of glorious charge at them. Lharkus was on the far left beyond them, executing a
World Eater that was laying at his feet amd bleeding from his opened torso.

Nikau was far on the right, backed into corner and sending Autocannon fire at the
World Eaters who were converging on him. He was dead and he knew it. Rukiel saw
three World Eaters come at him. The first took an Autocannon shot that blew his leg
of, falling his instantly. The second's breastplate cracked under the next
Autocannon shot, killing him but not before the loyalist managed to fire a single
mass reactive from his side arm. The bolt hit Nikau in the arm, disrupting his aim
just enough for him to miss the last World Eater who finished the effort in which
his brothers had fallen. His chainsword first ripped off Nikau's left arm, and then
penetrated deep into his stomach though the fibre bundling and power cables.

Nikau slumped against the loyalist, stared into the red eyes of the white helmet
before his right hand smashed his combat axe right rough it and into the World
Eater's skull. The World Eater and Nikau died locked together, slumping down in a
deathly embrace of lifeless corpses.

"Where is Verion?" Rukiel asked as he leaned into pick up a fallen bolter from a
World Eater, turning the weapon on the brothers of its previous owner.

"Don't know, lost him into the melee," Kerverax snapped as he took cover from a
frakk missile that impacted against his cover and showered the area with shrapnel.

"I see him…" Mortian said as he pointed with power fist. Rukiel lifted his head and
caught a sight of the carmine red armored son of the Great Angel.

Verion was on the other side of the cave, hacking apart the devastators of the
World Eaters with his combat sword and iron claw. He had somehow managed to slip
past the charge of the loyalist and now he was ripping apart their rear support.

"Verion," Rukiel called with his vox. "When you have killed the last Devastator,
circle around the cave and retreat back to us."

"Retreat?" came a hoarse spat from the crackling vox. "I am not going to retreat
back to you. I will strike at the World Eaters. I will kill our enemies, lord…"

"Stubborn bastard," Kerverax snarled. "Die well, Verion."

"You too, Kerverax..."

Kerverax chuckled. "I am out of ammo," he said as he threw his empty bolter away.

"As am I," Armadius said, raising his chainsword.

"I only have one Melta Bomb remaining, so it is back to good old chainsword melee.
Should I try to throw the bomb into one of the lava holes as see if it causes an
eruption? At least we would be burying the XIIth Legion hounds with us," Kerverax
snarled as he pulled up his chainsword from mag-lock. "I remember recently judging
rather harshly the Dark Blood for not running from their stupid fights."

"Have the recent events changed your earlier judgement?" Armadius asked. "We are
the ones who should run now but the World Eaters have all the exits covered and
they will shoot us if we start to climb any higher."

"No," Kerverax said "Now I am judging and cursing the bastards for not killing more
of these loyalists dogs. They left us to deal with their mess!" Kerverax glanced
over the cover. "Do we charge them or do we wait for them to come to us?" kerverax
asked. "We could send the remaining spawns ahead to absorb the most of it so that
we can close the distance."

"I think we have little say in the matter…" Mortian said as the World Eaters chain
weapons started to roar in unison, the sources of the sound coming closer with
alarming speed.

The World Eaters came to them. And they did their best in turn to kill the hounds.

Rukiel jumped over the main charge with his jump pack, leaving the rest of his
warband to deal with the brunt of the force. He dismembered two World Eaters when
he landed to reach a loyalist champion in the back, trying to impale the enemy on
the charge but the World Eater was leagues above his line brothers, smashing
Rukiel's spear aside with almost effortless blow from his power axe.

"Are you the captain, imperial slave?" Rukiel spat as he pressed on, spinning his
spear around in wide slashing moves that were deflected or dodged by the World
Eater.

"I am Veteran Sergeant Lufkail." The loyalist growled behind his mark III
faceplate. "I have the command after I avenged my captain against you abominations.
And I will be your death too, traitor!"

"I am Rukiel Varkhian of the Raven Guard!" Rukiel declared. "And you will join your
captain on the dark plains of the Ravenlord's realm!"

"Your boasts are meaningless, traitor!" the Veteran Sergeant roared as he almost
managed to strike at Rukiel's right pauldron with his axe. "The Emperor protects,
and death is a duty I fear not. And your death is also my duty!"

"Loyal to the death ?" Rukiel said with voice full of ridicule. "Show me!"

The Shadower slipped under the guard of the World Eater, and was just about to cut
into the white ceramite, until Rukiel realized the trap. The body of the World
Eater moved out of the way of the attack with incredible reflexes, and the Power
Axe coming around with such speed Rukiel could not fully dodge it. The axe slashed
across Rukiel's pauldron that he was forced to turn to the blow, ripping the
massive ceramite shoulder guard off in a shower of sparks and shredding metal.

Rukiel had underestimated the World Eater, he saw that now, and he activated his
jump pack to disengaged from the push the World Eater was driving forward. The Jump
pack flared to life, but the World Eater lifted his bolt pistol towards Rukiel. The
bolts all hit home, one hitting the left thruster of his jump pack, causing his
flight path to suffer catastrophic change of course. Rukiel fell straight for the
ground, smashing into the rocky cavern floor with bone shattering force that sent
him sliding across it for several meters.

Rukiel got up, grabbing for his spear that was lodged under him. He could hear the
running steps of ceramite against stone, and he had just enough time turn around to
deflect the power axe coming for his head. He could however do nothing about the
brutal shoulder bash that followed as the Veteran Sergeant smashed into him with
all his armored strashuman weight.

Rukiel was thrown off balance, and only his slightly psychically enhanced reflexes
saved him from the next blow of the World Eater.

Rukiel as still backing away when Mortian landed behind the World Eater, causing
the loyalist to glance back. Mortian should have put the loyalist dog down then and
there. But he did not. The power fist smash that should have been certain kill was
somehow parried aside with the World Eater's power axe, causing the axe to break
and explode under the incredible blow. The World Eater let go of the weapon,
smashing his armored gauntlet into the helmet of Mortian. And then lifted up his
bolt pistol to blow apart the damaged helmet through the face grill.

Mortian's body started to convulse, but before he was completely dead, the Veteran
Sergeant raised his armored boot and kicked dying Mortian in the chest, sending him
falling into nearby magma pit before the Unkind ripped their way into the reality.
The last Rukiel saw of Mortian was the dying Pureblood stumbling and rolling into
the pit before he disappeared into a hole illuminated by a fiery light.

Rukiel charged forward, aiming his power spear to impale the World Eater who had
just slew his brother. The World Eater turned, dropped his empty bolt pistol and
drew his combat blade. And then he somehow parried the spear by hitting the shaft
with is wrist and drove the knife into Rukiel's neck.

Rukiel smashed the World Eater away and clenched his gorget, spitting blood inside
his helmet. His spear fell from his hand as he stammered back. The knife had come
from a high angle and stabbed down towards his chest cavity, half stopped by his
metal hard transhuman bones. Rukiel grabbed his gorget and ripped his helmet off,
blinking of the blood from his eye. He backed away and engaged his jump pack,
holding his throat as his Larramans cells worked to keep him alive with a bit held
from the Empyrean and his dark bloodline. His jet pack however let out a loud
screeching and one of the thrusters started smoking, sending him crashing into the
ground once again.

Rukiel clawed away, pushing aside Spawn Marine and Astartes corpses as he tried to
get away from the World Eater he could feel coming for him. He had lost his spear.
The World Eater had a knife. He needed a weapon.

Rukiel looked frantically around him, looking the ground for any weapon. A blade of
a Spwankin would be just adequate at this point, anything. The steps of the World
Eater grew louder, fcrinding corpses and battlefield debris under them in dreading
enhoes.

And then Rukiel saw it. On his left, half covered by a Legion Pureblood who bad
half bursted on top of it, hidden in a dark corner surrounded by filth of the
Spawns, just couple of meters from him. Not only weapon. It was the relic. The
relic of his revered progenitor.

Rukiel felt new vigour fill him and he jumped towards the treasure, his black
gauntlets grasping around its handle just as he heard the battle cry of the
loyalist champion. Rukiel was crawling on the ground, turning and pointing the
weapon at the coming World Eater who charged at him with his combat knife in
reverse grip. He did not know if the relic had any ammo or if it was even
functional after millenia, but he pulled the trigger with all the hate and
desperation he could.

There was a flash of baleful light as the Archeotech pistol once wielded by a
demigod in an age long past fired, sending a bright lance of light at the World
Eater now only couple of meters from Rukiel. It hit the Veteran Sergeant square in
the chest, ate through the Eater of World's armor in some physical reaction Rukiel
did not understand and send him into the ground. The roar of pain let out by the
loyalist seemed reality shattering, somehow making the reality around him feel much
darker and colder as he died. His scream seemed to echo in the air long after he
laid dead at Rukiel's feet, like the soul that was ripped from the body continued
what the body had ceased to do.

The World Eater was dead, and Rukiel slowly got to his feet. He stared at the white
ceramite armored corpse, and then he stared at the pistol in his hand. It was worn
but of incredible craft, a technological marvel from the dark age of technology.
Rukiel had now idea how it worked or what it used for ammunition but it clearly was
functional. It was decorated with symbols of the mighty Raven, declaring the
identity of its dark master. For a moment Rukiel only stared at the weapon, almost
not believing he was holding something so incredible in his hand. It was in his
hand. It was his. The relic was his.

After a moment he was brought back to reality by the sounds of battle still echoing
in the cavern. The noise of bolter fire was gone, replaced by roars of chain
weapons and clashing of metal. Rukiel started running toward the location where his
Warband was fighting for their lives, only stopping to pick up his power spear on
his way.

Arkmadius was dead. The still living Devourer had ripped him in two with his
lightning claws, and was now taking on the Unkind released by his kill.

Kerverax had his back against a stone wall with couple of Primes, fending off at
least ten World Eaters that were assailing them. Lharkus was dueling with a two
World Eaters quite far away, dancing around avoiding their chain weapons while
launching his own mager counter attacks.

There was at least thirty World Eaters still alive, some engaged, some moving along
the rocks trying to get a good line of fire at the enemies their brothers were
engaging in melee.

Rukiel choose the Devourer as his target, using to his advantage the time when the
Terminator was still occupied by the Unkind. Rukiel lifted his new pistol and
fired. The shot caught the Terminator in the right shoulder, the thick armor plates
disintegrating but keeping the shot from reaching the flesh of the marine. The
World Eater turned, registering Rukiel as a great threat, as did the warriors
around him. Bolt pistols cracked and Rukiel dived for cover.

"Kerverax!" Rukiel voxed. "Lharkus! I got the relic. Let's get out of here!"

"Rather busy at the moment!" Kerverax Snarled as he struggled against the jungle of
chain weapons trying to send him into the embrace of the Warp.

"You found the Pistol?" Lharkus asked as he backhanded a World Eater.

"Yes! Let's fight our way out!" Rukiel did not manage to say anything more when the
Devourer came for him, slicing his claws through the rocks between him and Rukiel.
Rukiel backed away as the Devourer advanced, claws crackling with lightning and two
other World Eaters flanking him.

Rukiel raised his pistol as he fell back, taking a shot at the one of the line
marines. It almost felt as if the time stopped for a second when the shot hit him
and claimed the loyalist's life, the aura of oppression in the air got so thick for
a heartbeat that many other helmets in the cave turned to look and there was a
pause in the violent melee.

Rukiel was quite sure the effect came from the weapon once belonging to the
Ravelord, it certainly had not been like this during the Crusade. How the weapon
had made its way to where it was today was not known to Rukiel, but the weapon had
probably been in the Eye during the Primarch's Ascension. Rukiel was not sure if he
wanted to know what happened to the souls killed by the weapon, just as he Empyreal
screams of the shot World Eater vanished from his mind.

The Devourer did not wait for Rukiel to fire again, treading forward like the
walking tank he was. Rukiel mag-locked his precious pistol to his belt as he was
forced to wield his spear to defend himself.

The other World Eater tried to flank him, but he was stopped when a talon made of
iron came from behind and grabbed his helmet. Verion came from behind, turning the
World Eater and slashing his sword through his throat. The dying loyalist was still
falling when Verion jumped on top of the Terminator with unbelievable agility,
slashing down with his sword and talon, leaving slashed into the white and blue
ceramite.

The Devourer slashed with its own claws, cutting Verion's sword to shreds and
shaking the Blood Angel off. Verion threw the ruined weapon away, hissing at the
World Eater who charge and backhanded Verion across the breastplate. The lightning
claw cut Verion, ripping away a gruesome chunks of gore from his stomach. Verion
collapsed and the World Eater kicked him aside.

Rukiel took the opportunity and rammed his power spear into the shoulder joint of
the massive warsuit, but the turning World Eater forced him to back off when the
Terminator grabbed the spear with its functioning hand and ripped it free. He threw
the spear away like a twig and advanced on Rukiel. Without his spear Rukiel
retreated, pulling his Archeotech pistol up once more and taking a shot at the
World Eater. The massive warsuit's thick plates protected him once again and he
would have shredded Rukiel with his claw then and there if Verion had not come from
behind and impaled the Shadower through the Terminator's torso, the adamantium tip
emerging through the midsection of the tactical dreadnought armor.

"You... lost you spear, Rukiel…" Verion rasped before the Terminator wrenched
itself around and cut the Blood Angel in half from neck to armpit.

Rukiel fired the pistol again, this time scoring a hit into the leg of the
Terminator. It slowed the massive warrior only a fraction before he rammed his
clawed hand at Rukiel.

The last spear thrust to the shoulder had fortunately disrupted the power feed of
that claw and so Rukiel had the endure only the adamantium blades without the coat
of disruption field that would had shredded him. But the hit ripped his arm badly,
and more importantly caused him to lose his grip of the relic pistol. It was thrown
in the air and Rukiel let out a scream as he saw it falling towards a magma pit.
"No!"

His jetpack groaned angrily as he activated and dived after the weapon. He had gone
so far. He had sacrificed so much. He could not lose the relic. He could not lose
the weapon of the Ravenlord.

His armor clad fingers curled around the weapon's handle as he fell into the pit,
turning in the air and firing his jump pack in one final thrust. The machine spirit
of the pack however failed him and the the damaged thruster stopped working with a
sound of screeching metal shrapnel in the propulsion system. The thrust was cut
short and Rukiel smashed against the wall of the pit, orange glow of the magma
below him coloring his dark armor with red glow.

Rukiel tried to claw the rock with his hand for purchase but could not get a grip
from the steep angled stone. He could have let go of the relic but his left hand
stubbornly held onto the pistol as he started falling along the rock's surface. The
relic was his. He was not letting go. Not even if it killed him.

Something long and oily black came from above and wrapped itself around Rukiel's
hand. The thin tentacle like thing leached onto his arm and stopped his fall with
unflinched grip. As Rukiel was hanging from his black life rope above the fiery
magma pit, he glanced up to see the Spawn Marine leader of the first squad.
"My lord…" Kia-Prime rasped from behind its simple helmet, its deformed wings
framing its form it the light of the pit. The black tentacle like thing that was
keeping Rukiel from falling to his death was coming from the Prime's own arm, a
whip like organic appendage mutation that sprouted from the wrist of the prime and
was held by its fingers that pulled it up.

"My lord…" The Prime groaned again as it pulled with all its surprising strength.
Its organic whip lifted Rukiel up as the Spawn Marine dragged Rukiel from the pit
and onto the solid level floor of the cave.

Rukiel let out wheezing breaths as he got up, still firmly squeezing the relic in
his left hand.

"Your spear, my lord...," The Spawn Marine said as it pointed at the battered,
bleeding but still very much standing Devourer on the other side of the pit who was
heading back towards the main fight. "I will retrieve it for you, lord…"

The Spawn Marine took some momentum and jumped across the pit, the deformed wings
sprouting from the back of his scout armor offering him some minor glide. It landed
on the other side and rolled, just as the Devourer turned to face it. The Spawn was
actually agile enough to threw its whip weapon around the Terminator and slow its
movement long enough to circle to the backside of the World Eater. The Spawn
grabbed the spear that was still embedded into the Terminator and ripped it free
with with a groan of pierced armor plates. The Terminator cut the whip mutation
apart with its still functional lightning claw and turned to strike at the spawn.

Rukiel only watched as the Spawn deflected the lightning claw blow with the spear,
then dodged the next one. And the next one. And the one after that. And then it
struck back by ramming the spear into the helmet of the Terminator.

The hulking warrior stumbled, its arms moving for a moment in strange spasming
gestures before it stopped moving, dead but still standing by the balancing servos
of the armor that prevented the slightly tilted hulk of a corpse from falling over.

Kia-Prime grabbed the spear and wrenched it away from the head of the dead World
Eater in a shower of blood, coating the Prime's form in the blood of his fallen
kill.

The Spawn Marine returned to Rukiel by jumping over the same pit. The it fell to
its knees and offered the weapon to its master. "Your spear, my lord…" the Spawn
marine rasped.

Rukiel took the weapon, his eyes not leaving the Prime for a moment. He was
wordless, something he had not been in a long while.

The Bolter fire snapped his attention back to the situation at hand. He looked to
his left and saw Lharkus running towards him, followed by Kerverax. The two of them
dived between rocks, running from cover to cover. Lharkus had something over his
shoulder and when he got closer Rukiel saw it was a jump pack. Torash's jump pack.

"This fool was actually crazy enough to stop to pick up the jump pack when we ran
from the World Eaters," Kerverax said as he reached Rukiel. "Can we flee now?"

"Yes," Rukiel said as a bolt shell impacted against the jump pack Lharkus was
carrying. He took one final look at the cave filled with bodies. Spawn Marines.
Purebloods of the Legion, from other and his own warband. World Eaters dead by the
dozen. The cave was a field of death, a grand graveyard of blood and flesh from two
gene lines. A true raven's feast.
The three Purebloods and one Spawn Marine Prime turned and rand with all the speed
their transhuman bodies allowed. They used the rocks and sometimes the dead for
cover when they fled from the pursuing World Eaters. They ran up the hill leading
to the tunnel where they had arrive in the first place. The place was devastated my
Plasma Canon fire and Rukiel actually spotted pieces of burned white ceramite that
had once been Tseren. They entered the tunnel, finally reaching safety from the
bolter fire that stopped when they dives into the darkness.

"We dumped the remaining couple of Spawn into the World Eaters. With my melta bomb
mag-locked into one of clones." Kerverax explained. "When it blew up we took our
chances and pushed through into the open then from there to the cover of the
rocks." Kerverax looked at the winged Spawn Prime still covered in Devourer blood
running behind him. "Speaking of which, should we not throw this one back to
distract the World Eaters?"

"Kia-Prime stays with us," Rukiel said and that was that.

"Found Torash, or what was left of him, when I was dodging the flanking Eaters."
Lahrkus said next while hefting his newly scavenged jump pack. "It would have been
shame to leave this."

"It was an insane move that somehow did not manage to get you killed because the
World Eaters were being slowed down by being knee deep in Spawn corpses," Kerverax
Snarled as he took a glance behind him. Rukiel also did so, but there was no signs
of World Eater pursuers.

"I cut this off when Arkmadius died," Kerverax said as he lifted something that
Rukiel realised was a black power armored arm cut off from the elbow, with old
Narthecium still attached to it. "And then I took this off him as well," Kerverax
continued as he lifted the carrion chain that had been around Arkmadius' neck. It
was still lined with tiny cylinders holding the remains of fallen sons of Corax.
"We harvested Skiessax," Kerverax finished, fiddling with the newest addition to
the chain. "I have piece of Arkmadius right here," he said as he lifted the arm.
"And the jump pack might have something left behind from Torash."

"Add them to the chain later," Rukiel said as he kept running. "You are the holder
of the chain from now on, Kerverax."

"Yes my lord."

"Was this worth it?" Lharkus asked. Rukiel and Kerverax glanced at their brother.
"I lost my old warband in these cursed caves. You lost most of yours as well,
Rukiel. All those Purebloods, dead. Was it worth it?"

Rukiel lifted his relic, his treasure. Holding the irreplaceable Archeotech pistol
of Corax filled him with new sense of certainty and spirit. It was his. He had
emerged triumphant. He was the victor.

"Yes."

The blast shields came down behind Rukiel when he left the bridge of the Raptor's
Shoud as the ship entered the caress of the Warp. "Good job guarding the ship while
I was gone," he said as he passed the two Spawns Marines standing as motionless
statues at the door of the bridge. "Kerverax, you have the bridge. Take us to the
nest in the Eye."

"Yes lord."
The bulkhead closed behind Rukiel and Kia-Prime and the two very different Raven
Guard warriors made their way through the corridors of the old light cruiser, the
old ship slightly groaning around them as it entered the Sea of Souls. The to of
them traveled for quite a while before they entered a wide chamber lined with
machines, working servitors and couple of tech-adepts.

There were almost a dozen equipment racks alongside the walls, each holding pieces
of power armor. The well crafted and maintained armors reserved for the Purebloods
constantly looked after by the Legion serfs.

Rukiel stopped at the door, motioning Kia-Prime into the chamber where serfs and
tech-adepts were falling into deep bows at the presence of their lord. "Choose
anyone you want," Rukiel said, his hand sweeping across the room at the warsuits.
"I will have the techpriest modify it for you to wear."

"My lord…" The Prime said, looking between Rukiel and the armors, as if not quite
believing what it was hearing. Then the Spawn Marine entered the chamber, starting
to go around gazing at the lined power armors.

"Haxorr," Rukiel called, and the highest ranking techpriest of the dark mechanicum
crawled from one of the dark corners with his centipede-like legs, making metallic
groaning and clicking sound sas it approached. The dark red hood covered most of
it, with one bright green optic shining from under the dark good like a huge
radiant eye.

"Lord Varkhian?" The metallic monotone spoke, cast by the machine man's vox port
for a mouth.

"Kia-Prime…" Rukiel stopped for a very brief moment when he thought about the
Prime. Maybe it should be given a proper name. He would have to think about that
later. "The Prime will be choosing an armor for himself. Make sure the plate is
modified to his unique needs and that he is properly equipped."

The tech priest glanced at the Spawn Marine, perhaps surprised by the unusual order
of giving out one of the Pureblood armors, but there was no reading his mechanical
form. "As you wish my lord, I will comply…" The techpriest turned its head back to
Rukiel "You own armor is requiring heavy maintenance…" It crackled.

"Later," Rukie said as he gazed at the Prime for a moment longer. That damaged
scout armor it wore. The right arm that possessed a rapidly regrowing whip like
mutation coming from the writs. The deformed black wings in its back... No... The
wings were no longer the pitiful bony sprouts they had been before. The red
transhuman blood spilled from the Devourer was still coating the wings that were
now half full of black glistening feathers, with more growing out slowly but fast
enough enough for Rukiel to notice with blind eye. They were transforming into
proper wings. Raven's wings.

Rukiel gazed for a second longer before turning and leaving the armory sanctum and
heading for the strategium. When he reached the war room, occupied otherwise only
by the hardwired servitors along the walls, he took to his throne and climbed to
sit upon it. He rested his heavily damaged armor against the back of the throne,
lifting his hand to inspect the relic in his hand. The Archeotech pistol seemed to
poorly reflect the already reduced lighting on the room, and Rukiel could feel the
aura of dark glory surrounding the weapon. It was a priceless treasure of the
Legion that he had sacrificed much to obtain.

And he would have to give it away. He did not want to, but Rukiel was enough of a
pragmatic man to see why it had to be done. His warband was ruined. The relic had
come at a heavy cost. From the beginning it had been his intention to sell it to a
more prestigious Legion brother for what his warband really needed. And he would
never have been able to defend the relic from greedy brothers who would come for it
when the word got out. The relic was priceless, but there were things which Rukiel
needed more. There were things needed for war greater than any single weapon.

Rukiel lowered the pistol to rest against the arm of his throne, holding it gently
in his grip just like his left hand hold on the the dataslate on the left arm of
the throne. Maybe, if the bargaining went his way, he would soon be commanding a
much larger vessel in the near future. One able to hold even greater warband that
he would rebuild.

And that was the story of Rukiel's costly venture to reclaim a treasure of his
Legion for himself. It has been a blast to write this. Huge thanks to Zahariel for
allowing me to use his awesome universe and also for Beta reading this story for
me. I hope it was an enjoyable to read.

Also thanks to Darkerpaths, without who this story would not have had Devourers in
it.

My Raven Guard Artwork of Roboutian Heresy is also done by the way, so go take a
look at it on my DevianArt page. It is very special. ;)

So, the Raven's Feast is done. time to get back to Chaos is the Prize. I am missing
writing it already.