The Heretic Thread - 40k (Sci-fi and Fantasy) Writers Workshop

Alright, so this is the story that I mentioned in my one post. The class that I took, a creative writing one, was incredibly restrictive on how long it was supposed to be. Six pages double spaced. Yea, that short. So, naturally, it's pretty simplistic but I would've gotten a perfect score on it if I had payed attention to the grammar in it (I wrote this thing in, like, thirty minutes, the night before it was due.) And yes, this story does (kind of) tie into "The Void".

Bright red las-rounds flew past his head. He, Inquisitor Vulpes of the Ordo Xenos, dove behind a pillar, while returning fire with his bolt pistol. After years of hunting, he finally found the base of The Cultists of Iron, he also had finally found out their true intentions. He’d tracked them down to the dead world now known as ‘Planet 478-364’, which had been destroyed by Holy-Exterminatus over six millennia ago. But now it was inhabited by the Cult and whatever they were searching for. He didn’t know what it was, but the sheer number of Cultists on the Planet was proof that whatever was here was important. He brought a force of almost forty elite Inquisitorial Stormtroopers, but by this point he had no idea how many of them still lived. They were inside some great underground complex that was built like an ancient tomb, which was disrupting their Vox-links.

“Red!” Vulpes shouted to the only surviving Stormtrooper of his section, “See if you can try and flank these damned Heretics!”

“Aye, sir!” the gruff Stormtrooper shouted back to him. Red ran into a small corridor and never returned.

Vulpes swore he heard a faint scream coming from the corridor Red had disappeared into. That’s when everything went silent; the Cultists had broken off, instead of trying to finish off the lone Inquisitor. Vulpes saw something move through the corridor. He lifted his bolt pistol and fired into the pitch black corridor. He heard a loud metallic ping and saw a sparks fly. A figure stepped through the darkness and into the light of the Torches. He was a massive, tattooed Warrior in burnished Iron colored Power Armor. He had a large, pitch black Mohawk and carried a long, heavy two handed Power Sword; blood was dripping off of it. The left spiked, pauldron of his armor was dented in and the rest of his left arm was unarmored the Tattoos on the arm stung Vulpes’s eyes whenever he focused on them. The Warrior leapt across the room towards him, clearing the hallway with a single jump. He was now face to face with a Chaos Marine; his worst nightmare.

Vulpes didn’t do anything. He simply stared into the eyes of the fallen Astartes. He saw what the eyes of this Marine had seen. The Horus Heresy, murder and genocide across countless planets, he saw the Emperor of Mankind himself being struck down by Horus. Vulpes dropped to his knees as he saw his God-Emperor fell before the Wrath of Horus. He saw Ollanius Pius stand before the massive form of Horus, saving the Emperor. Then he saw Betrayal, then ten thousand years of bloodshed and slowly nurtured hatred. The Warrior gave him a slight, wicked smile before head-butting Vulpes. The world spun and everything went black.

* * *

“He’ll live,” a distant, feminine voice said, “Thank the Emperor.”

“Praise the Emperor!” another, deeper male voice said, “Inquisitor Vulpes? Can you hear me?”

He slowly opened his eyes. Two figures stood over him, both of whom he recognized. One was the aged Inquisitor Andrastia, of the Ordo Hereticus, her shimmering grey hair was tucked under a wide brimmed hat. She wore simple brown power armor; her ornate Power Rapier was sheathed. The other figure was for more imposing and younger. Lord-Inquisitor Brucil, from the Ordo Malleus. He wore shining Golden Power armor, his face was heavily scarred and his head was bald. He wore a long, flowing fur cloak over his shoulders. He had his simple, ancient force Sword out. The Lord-Inquisitor was a scary powerful Psyker, able to crush the minds of weaker foes with a mere thought.

“Come on Vulpes,” Andrastia said, helping Vulpes up as she said it, “We’ve got some cultists to kill.”

They ran through the empty halls for what seemed like ages. Out of nowhere, the Lord-Inquisitor stumbled. He shot out a hand, trying to steady himself against the wall; the other hand grabbed his forehead. He growled in pain.

“Lord Inquisitor?!” Vulpes said in concern, “What’s wrong?”

“There is something…” Brucil said weakly, his breath ragged, “...Something going on in the room ahead; some sort of Warpcraft.”

As if to confirm what he was saying, both Vulpes’s and Andrastia’s noses started to bleed profusely. They darted forward, desperate to put a stop to whatever was going on in the next room. They reached a large wooden door; the bodies of nine Stormtroopers where nailed to the door, their bodies seemed to form a crude, nine pointed star. Their chests were cracked open, hearts still beating, their eyes darted around in pain, confusion and fear.

“This,” Vulpes whimpered in horror, “is desecration.” He had fought Chaos numerous times as an Inquisitor, but he’d never seen anything like this.

“No,”the Lord-Inquisitor corrected, “This is the handiwork of the Warp.” Blue Warp-fire burst from Brucil’s hands and shot towards the door, blowing it into hundreds of splinters.

“Yes! Let the Blood Flow!” someone screamed from the other side, “Blood for the Blood God! Let the Universe drown in it!”

All three of the Inquisitors stopped in horror as they saw what was before them. A huge cauldron was in the middle of the room, dozens of Cultists where spread around it randomly, cheering at the top of their lungs. Another stood in front of the Cauldron on a large, nine pointed pedestal. He held a cruel, hooked blade in his hands. He was ritualistically sacrificing the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers. There were dozens of them that where already dead, each of them drained of their blood. No one seemed to notice or care about the Inquisitors that had just stepped into the room.

Brucil took a step forward, blue fire leaping from his Force Sword. He immediately started hacking his way through the Cultists, blood spraying up onto his Golden Power armor. Andrastia followed suit, elegantly cutting down Cultists with her Rapier. Vulpes opened fire with his Bolter, walking through the crowd and firing a single bolt into the head of each Cultist; the .75 caliber high explosive rounds blowing each of their heads off. Brucil reached the pedestal first; he grabbed the Cultist by the neck of his robes and stabbed his Force Sword through his stomach.

The Cultist laughed maniacally, “You cannot stop him!” he shouted, still laughing, “We shall set him free and he shall tear this Universe asunder!”

Brucil yanked the Sword from the Cultist’s stomach and threw the body to the side in disgust. “We’re facing the devotees of…Khorne,” he said, spitting out the name of the Chaos God as if it was venomous.

“Yes, that much is obvious,” Andrastia said sarcastically, as they turned to exit the room.

None of them noticed that the cauldron of blood had begun to boil.

They continued on in silence for another hour. They did hear anything and Brucil didn't sense anything. Vulpes noted that they were gradually going deeper underground. The architecture of the tomb became more and more strange. The tiles on the floor where completely unsymmetrical, each one random, but yet they all fit together perfectly. Each supporting pillars height was random as well, yet the ceiling was completely smooth and flat. But the most disturbing thing was the light. It was still light in the tunnel, but there weren’t any torches or glow globes, the light seemed natural even though they were almost two miles underground.

“This place seems,” Vulpes said with a slight pause, “odd; to say the least.”

“That it does,” Andrastia said in agreement. “Know anything about this Brucil?”

“It is touched by the Warp itself,” Brucil revealed, confirming their worst fear. “The veil between the Immaterium and reality are thin here. Don’t try and ponder or focus on it; that way leads to insanity and damnation. As to why it’s getting thinner the deeper we go,” he paused, “I wouldn’t even be able to speculate.” But he was able to speculate and in fact, he had a guess as to why it was happening; he just didn’t want to scare the other two even more. The very thought of it scared even the seasoned Daemon-Hunter.

They reached another large chamber, after about another three hours of walking. Frost lined the ancient wooden door, they could see their breath. Vulpes wished that he had Power armor, or at least a heavier jacket, he was freezing in his thin, black jacket.

Brucil slowly opened the frost caked door and walked into the chamber. “Throne of Terra,” he murmured.

Bodies littered the chamber, Vulpes immediately slipped on the icy floor. He saved himself from falling down completely, but also discovered that he wasn’t slipping on actual ice. He was slipping on frozen blood. He also noticed that the bodies weren’t entirely human; they were in fact the forms of the Adeptus Astartes.

Andrastia knelt before one of the dead Space Marines and wiped off the frost from its right pauldron. “Praetorians, sixth Company,” she whispered solemnly, “May you find peace at the Emperor’s side, Brother.”

“Throne!” Vulpes suddenly exclaimed, “These guys are ancient. At least four thousand years old.”

“Four thousand, three hundred and forty two years old, to be exact,” Brucil corrected immediately.

“How do you know that?” Vulpes asked in confusion.

“The Chapter Master, from this time, is still alive,” Brucil answered, “Captain Malcome Malrone, Venerable Dreadnaught of the Praetorians second Company. Mortally wounded in action in a massive battle in this very system almost four thousand years ago. He’s been under a vow of silence ever since.”

“You know what’s down here, don’t you?” Vulpes challenged suddenly, “You’ve known all along, haven’t you!”

“I don’t know exactly what is down here, but I did know that a company of Praetorians landed on this planet four thousand years ago and disappeared. The Inquisition cordoned off the planet and Virus Bombed it into oblivion. That’s all I know,” the Lord Inquisitor declared, clearly agitated by Vulpes.

Vulpes recoiled slightly. He didn’t even know why he had challenged Brucil. This Emperor forsaken hell-hole was agitating him; everything seemed to defy physics and logic. He shook his head and walked off, heading for the exit.

They continued on for another four hours, before they finally seemed to reach the end. The final chamber was almost larger than a Titan hangar, with a single, dark balcony on the far right side. At the end of the chamber was a huge skull faced coffin, the skull looked as if it was snarling, two large fangs extending down its mouth. Wisps of black smoke slowly rose from its blank eye sockets.

A shot rang out. The tiles in front of Vulpes’s foot exploded, pieces of it tearing through the thin cloth of his pants. He tore out his Bolt Pistol and pointed it towards the origins of the shot; freezing as he saw the Mohawked figure holding a smoking Bolter. Slowly the Chaos Marine stepped into the light for everyone to see his full features. Brucil had also whipped his head around to look towards the Chaos Marine but Andrastia kept staring at the Coffin, she was unable to break away from its stare.

The Fallen Astartes slowly lowered his Bolter and began to laugh, “Inquisitor Vulpes! It is good to see you again!”

Vulpes’s blood ran cold. He never told the others about his encounter with this Traitor.

Brucil turned his head, glaring back at Vulpes, “You know this traitor?” Brucil pulled his own Bolt Pistol out and pointed it at Vulpes’s head. “Heretic,” he growled darkly.

Andrastia screamed. Brucil also collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony. The Coffin slowly opened. A dark, maniacal laughter filled the room, it sounded as if it was coming from everywhere, even inside Vulpes’s head. The Coffin was empty. A figure suddenly stepped through the Coffin, as if he was walking through the wall behind it. He was massive, at least twelve feet tall, bigger than the actual Coffin. His Power armor was pitch black, agonized faces seemed to float across the armor every time Vulpes looked away from the figure. Vulpes dared to look at it’s face; his ancient face was criss-crossed with scars, his eyes seemed to be utterly soulless.

The Mohawked warrior suddenly appeared next to Vulpes and kneeled, “My lord Alaric,” he said, “it is good to finally see you again.”

Alaric cracked his neck, “Good Captain, Grendel,” he said with a smile, “It is good to see you again, as well.” He paused, “And who are your new Friends?”

“Those two?” Grendel nodded towards the two Inquisitors who were writhing in agony, “They’re Imperial Inquisitors, along with the other one who’s still standing. Should I kill them, my lord?”

“No!” Alaric laughed, “These are members of the Imperial Inquisition! Finest slaves of the Corpse Emperor! We owe them much more than a quick death.”

Vulpes shuddered and lifted his Bolt pistol, pointing it at Alaric’s head. Grendel jumped back and aimed his Bolter back at Vulpes, but did nothing. Vulpes looked down at Andrastia and cringed, she seemed to be having some sort of seizure. He lowered his Bolt pistol and shot Andrastia through the chest. She twitched once and went limp, blood started to pool under her body. Alaric laughed again, the sound of his laughter made Vulpes shudder again.

“Good job, young slave!” Alaric shouted, still laughing, “Now, what will you do to your other friend?”

Vulpes looked down at Brucil, who still seemed to be in pain, but was able to still glare at him. “Release him,” Vulpes concluded.

“Oh and why would I do that?” Alaric asked, obviously disappointed.

“Because,” Vulpes said with a broad grin, “That way the galaxy can tremble before the name ‘Alaric’ again.”

And for the first time in almost six thousand years, the massive Iron Warrior truly laughed.