Day 37
Your Imperium is truly a… frustrating organization.
Catherine Ellen wasn't sure if she should feel glad that the parasite called Tide had at last been thwarted, at least in a manner of speaking. Not when she had been used as a tool to accomplish it.
Four assassins deployed alongside her to this backwater world, under her very nose. She'd had no idea of their presence, their mission, or even that there was any reason to care about this world beyond the regiments she had been sent to raise from it. The discovery of the genestealers had occurred because of her familiarity with the xenos infiltrators and a suspicious mind.
The Lord-Inquisitor, Calistis Hroth, had sent these assassins, using Catherine, a fellow inquisitor, as simple cover to hide their activities. That was why Catherine had been given a task of such low importance, a task that could have been handled by any general or army commander. She was just… a decoy.
If she were not in whatever pocket realm the parasite had dragged her into once again, his 'Domain' or what-not, she might very well have cracked her teeth from how hard she was gritting them.
What was even more significant was the fact that the assassins had known from the beginning about the growing genestealer and even Chaos presence on the planet. Which meant the Lord-Inquisitor had known. Only Ellen herself appeared to have been in the dark on the matter.
They do not know why they are here, beyond the retrieval of their target, Cass, and her unborn child. Their orders are woefully sparse in clarification. They used a seer to guide their actions, but he was killed by the opening of the Great Rift.
Ellen said nothing, keeping her jaw clenched and her hands tightened into fists. The three captured assassins, the Vindicare, Culexus, and Callidus, drifted before her as if drowned in the waters of this place. They were not dead, or so Tide had claimed, simply sleeping after having gone through some kind of ordeal. Their memories were displayed around them, like hololith, and she could peer into them with startling ease if she simply willed herself to. The ease was uncanny and she knew many of her fellow Inquisitors would have killed many to acquire such a means of unveiling the truth.
Their wills are quite strong. By far greater than any I have encountered before.
Was that supposed to be an insult to her? Ellen did not deign it with a rebuttal. The parasite had not broken her, after all.
If I had not taken Limos and Enyo before trying this, I may not have been able to so easily peer inside their heads. As it stands, the matter is simple enough.
"Do you have a point you are trying to make, or merely talking to talk?" Ellen bit out.
Merely thinking aloud, for lack of a better term. Having someone else to bounce ideas off of can be useful.
"I will tell you nothing," Ellen replied, even if she knew it was pointless.
That is your choice. I wonder why they were after the child? They were even ordered to give up their own lives if needed to safeguard it.
Ellen tried hard not to think about it, knowing that to do so would only help Tide. However, it was difficult to accomplish such a thing and she blamed this place, which was so empty of distractions she could busy herself with. She scorned that weakness and seized upon it. An Inquisitor's mind was her weapon, yet hers was so easily brought to the purpose of an enemy of Mankind. She thought of her chants and meditations. If she'd had her blade, her armor, and an enemy she could strike out at. She had always been more partial to the physical act of expunging corruption, preferably with her own two hands.
A candidate for the Culexus Temple was my first thought, or some kind of blank-powered weapon. Based off the memories of Cass and Brunt, the blank parents, it seems the genestealers had been avoiding the hive spires for some reason. If it is so powerful, a disruption to their Brood Mind caused by its presence would not be out of question.
While the parasite spoke, Ellen watched the dark ocean depths and assassins around her fade away. Instead, a vast wasteland stretched out around her, empty of life but not animation. An unliving being that looked like a simple doll carved from wood with joints of straw clambered forward, holding a sword and shield, though the sword at least was metal. In her own hand, a sword very much like the one she had wielded in battle against the Orks appeared, though this one was just sharpened steel rather than a power sword.
"What is this?" Ellen demanded.
A distraction for you, since you so prefer fighting to talking. As I was saying, I'd thought that the two blanks were going to have a blank child of exponentially greater power than them. Unprecedented power, in fact, if its range really was reaching across hive spires while only a few weeks in the womb.
The doll marched forward and threw her a salute, one she didn't match. It slashed down at her with a simple attack, one she easily blocked and sidestepped, bringing her own blade across to slash at its neck. The doll had a nasty gash across its neck, but continued on without a care, slashing at her again.
However, if that were the case, the Callidus would not have been able to find them through this device she carries. Her memories call it a 'witch-compass', but I have never seen anything like it before. The tarot seer seems to have been the one to create it, though none of the assassins know how, and he seemed confident it would find the child after conception. However, if this child were a blank that powerful, there is no way the device would have been able to find it, let alone continue operating in its presence, not when it failed when near the two parents and their far weaker blank aura. Not if the center of a hive city was abandoned by the genestealer Brood Mind to escape that presence.
The doll attacked again and again, slowly increasing in the prowess it fought with. Catherine matched it, blow for blow, and scored hit after hit against it. Soon, its body was marred with dozens of scratches and shallow cuts. Nonetheless, it continued its assault.
I have checked the genetic data of the embryo. As far as I can tell, there is nothing particularly out of the ordinary about it one way or another and it hasn't inherited the Pariah gene from its parents. Its… an ordinary human.
The doll slashed and Catherine ducked under its slicing blade. The doll only continued its turn into a sweeping kick with one leg, and Catherine found the world dislodged from under her. She collapsed, but she rolled back just in time to evade the doll's sword as it stabbed down into the dirt where she had landed. In a moment, she was back on her feet.
It is possible that the gene does not appear until later through some manner of Warp-based interference. I have never studied a blank in the process of being born before, nor have any of those whose memories I have access to too. I still understand very little about blanks and souls in general as well. I only know that this child was apparently important or valuable enough to send four assassins after with orders expressly forbidding they allow harm to come to it or the mother for as long as she carried it. Not their usual role, but the fact that a Lord-Inquisitor is involved is concerning.
Catherine dodged back again just as the blade would have sliced through her throat. She took advantage of the doll's overreach and struck, plunging her sword into its head, roughly where the eye of a human would have been. The doll fell back, defeated.
I will learn more in time, I am sure. Until then, all I can do is ensure the parents are well cared for. I've noticed several individuals that share similarities with them that are outcasts of the hives. Perhaps I can form a community for them so they are no longer alone? One of the hives retaken from the genestealers would do.
"Your puppets are hardly worth my time," Catherine said. She raised her leg and kicked at the head of the defeated doll, only for it to vanish a moment before contact. She regained her balance and glared at nothing in particular.
Perhaps you would prefer a real challenge then?
As Tide spoke those words, something like a tree grew from the ground, sprouting upwards. She had seen this before, at the meeting she and her two treacherous acolytes had had with Tide days ago. The form the tree took was different, closer in shape to a humanoid and lither, with fewer leaves atop its head. It had the look of a warrior xenos about it and it wielded a staff instead of a sword, fixing her with the gaze of four, onyx-like eyes.
Catherine held her blade up, fighting down the smile trying to spread across her lips.
She's quite the meathead.
Purilla snorted at that, covering her mouth with her hand a moment later. "Apologies."
None needed. I hope more people learn to laugh when I'm around.
She stood in another part of the Domain, one separate from Catherine. She watched her former master fighting with all her might against one of Tide's illusions, displayed as though by hololith, though she wasn't even sure if they could really be diminished as mere illusions. Everything here felt as real as the waking world.
"Why tell her everything about the assassins?" Purilla asked, glancing over at where the trio floated, still asleep. They at least were real here, more than even Purilla herself was. The three assassins had been brought here by the beautiful construct Tide had dubbed a Star Road. It was an oddly mundane name for something so ethereal.
She deserved to know how her so-called 'superiors' really saw her. Just as you did. She is worth more than they credit her.
"You just called her a meathead," Purilla pointed out. She bit back the giggle she felt at calling the Inquisitor such a word.
Yes, but she is not unintelligent. She feels she has to prove herself because of her youth, because she knows she is inexperienced as an Inquisitor. She was raised up and given too much responsibility too quickly. So… she seeks glory. It is her former mentor's fault, for the most part, though she cannot escape some blame.
"Her mentor?"
He was a warrior, like her. He saw himself in her, or so she remembers him saying. It is possible his own ego led him to raising her up so swiftly.
"That…" Purilla had never met the Inquisitor that Ellen had served, nor had she ever spoken about him before. Purilla had never asked, but then, it had never been her place to. "Who was he?"
Tide was quiet for a time and Purilla got the feeling of inner conflict from him. Was it so great of a secret?
She would refuse to tell you right now, but… One day, you should ask that question to Ellen yourself.
"I don't think she'd ever tell me anything I want to know. Not back then, and certainly not now."
Maybe. Maybe not. Just keep it in mind.
"What do you intend to do with them?" A new voice cut into their conversation and Purilla turned to see Aliciel, the veteran Sister of Battle and one of the first of her Order to learn of Tide's existence, walking over to them. They had actually met once several months before either had met Tide, back when Purilla still served Ellen and Aliciel still called herself a Sister of Battle with pride. Aliciel had threatened to burn Purilla at the stake if she felt anyone mucking about in her mind.
The woman had profusely apologized for that immediately upon their second meeting, this time with Tide watching over them both. Purilla had barely remembered their first encounter, since being threatened over her status as a psyker was hardly new. That same interaction or instances close enough like it had occurred with three different Sisters of Battle over the course of a month.
Still, Tide had oddly encouraged her to not just forgive Aliciel as a matter of course. The woman was clearly repentant and Purilla got the feeling that Tide did want her to forgive the woman, but didn't want her to do so simply to please him or out of sheer politeness.
In the end, Purilla hadn't forgiven her. She wasn't carrying a grudge, at least she didn't think she was, but… She didn't really know how to feel. No one had ever asked her for forgiveness before and she was still trying to process that and what it meant. Both Aliciel and Tide had accepted her decision.
The former Sister of Battle blinked, a look of surprise on her face to equal Purilla's own to see the psyker here. The other woman must have been speaking with Tide somewhere else in his Domain and brought here in the middle of that conversation. The question had been directed towards the three sleeping assassins.
"Lady Purilla," Aliciel greeted, a nervous edge in her voice. Her hands went up halfway to where they would have gone to make the sign of the Aquilla, stopped, then went back down to her sides, where they seemed to fidget.
"Lady Aliciel," Purilla replied with a nod and she saw a pang of guilt cross Aliciel's face at the use of the title. Tide spoke, as though he hadn't just brought the two of them together again out of nowhere.
I'll keep them here, for now. It is safer for them and for us all to do so. They are less likely to kill anyone else, at the very least.
"You said there were four assassins, right?" Purilla asked, trying hard not to look at Aliciel. "Where's the fourth? The… What did you call it?"
Eversor.
An image of the assassin, rather than the assassin himself, appeared in front of them. At the moment, it was thrashing about wildly in the empty ocean, as though it were fighting off phantom foes while cackling and screaming loudly.
"This one's even worse than the beastman," Aliciel remarked and Purilla glanced at her, not understanding what she meant. Fortunately, Tide was there to explain.
Aliciel and I are trying to reclaim a beastman, Kalak, from Chaos. We have yet to yield results, unfortunately. Funnily enough, I caught this Eversor in a remarkably similar way to him. Perhaps the two can even become friends, once they stop trying to murder everything in sight.
"At some point, Tide, you have to realize that some people are just broken," Aliciel said, matching the only half-serious tone in Tide's final remark, but Purilla looked away at that, clutching at the unnaturally pale flesh of her arms, which would normally be covered by gloves. In that moment, she felt she had made the right decision to not forgive the Sister. The older woman had changed, become better even… But not by as much as she might have believed.
"Stay back!" Cass warned, holding the broken chair leg up threateningly. The piece it was taken from was an artifact that had been in the former owner's family for generations, crafted of real wood and carved by a master craftsman renowned for his skill and piety. It was a decoration piece, not functional, and its leg had snapped off quite easily after being smashed against the floor. Cass, of course, had no idea of its history, nor did the person in front of her expect she'd have cared much about the destruction of it even if she had.
The pair of confused and exhausted blanks who were at the end of their ropes stood in what they could not possibly have known was a dead noble's bedchamber, with no comprehension of where they were, what was happening, or why. Brunt, sporting an arm entirely healed and likely feeling better than he had ever in his life, was holding a paperweight, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his wife. Cass wielded the leg like a sword, her eyes sliding from the man in front of her to the door behind him.
The last thing she remembered was getting onto the aircraft, when it suddenly seemed to start to crash downwards. Then… nothing. It was like there was a hole in her memories, a part that had been cut out wholesale. After, she and Brunt had awoken in the largest and softest bed she had ever laid eyes on, just as the man before them entered the chamber. They'd leapt into action, grabbing the first even vaguely weapon-shaped objects they could get their hands on.
"Good morning to you too," the man said, entirely unconcerned with the weapons they were waving about. "I see you slept well." His gaze was fixed squarely on Brunt's arm.
"You… did this?" Brunt asked, chancing a glance to his arm. Suspicion clouded his eyes as he fixed the man with a hard stare. "Why?"
"Because you'd have died if I hadn't," The man said with a smile and Cass' mistrust heightened even more. The first and only person she had ever seen smile at her had been Brunt. His answer was a lie, it had to be. "Any other questions?"
"What's happening? Who are you? Where is Sulla?" Cass spoke this time, the questions almost flooding out of her.
"The woman who called herself Sulla is currently sleeping off her exposure to the multiverse," The man said, as though that made any sense at all. "Something which I can state with certainty is significantly worse than any hangover ever suffered by anyone, at least on this planet. She'll be fine, I'm just not feeling as charitable towards them as I am with you two."
"What does any of that even mean," Brunt said, just as confused as she was.
"Sorry, sorry," The man said with a grin that showed white teeth. "Let's start from the beginning then. May I?" With that, the man gestured at a nearby trio of seats yet to be smashed.
The man waited a moment, cocking his head at them. Neither of the blanks moved, watching with the unblinking gaze of statues as he shrugged and continued on.
"As you please," he said. "My name is Tide. I'm currently new to this world and, arguably, the most powerful being presently on it. Pleasure to make your acquaintances, by the way. As for what is happening, I'd rather hoped you could shed some light on that. As far as I knew, everyone in the hive cities controlled by genestealers – those are the creatures that took over Whiro – was dead. That was true in the cases of this hive city, Limos, and the hive of Enyo."
"We're good at surviving," Cass said before she'd realized she even wanted to speak. Were they really in another hive? She had never travelled that far.
"See, I'd be inclined to believe that, combined with your unique status as blanks to make you both difficult to track. The thing is…" Tide paused, glancing at Cass specifically. "From what I can tell, you two emptied entire hive spires of genestealer presence. I cannot sense the strength of blanks, but I'm quite certain that you'd have killed at least one of the… individuals sent to collect you if there was anyone that powerful present simply through your existing near them. More than that, I'm fairly certain that Whiro would have depopulated long before the genestealers came to it if either of you parents were that strong."
Cass' grip on her weapon tightened at the man calling them 'parents'. It… hadn't felt entirely real, even with all the nausea, yet to hear him all but confirm it… She was pregnant. Brunt threw a look at her, then at her stomach. She saw fear in his eyes, along with hope and uncertainty.
"I've got plenty of theories about that, but they all have holes in them or are just ludicrous to consider," Tide continued, crossing his arms. "I've recently learned my lesson in regards to just waiting for things to happen, but I think I'll have to make an exception in this case. You two are free to live here, in this mansion, for as long as you wish. Alternatively, you may leave and explore Limos freely, I will not stop or confine you. However, you should be aware that this is not a city of the living anymore. For most, I think that would be disconcerting. For you, however, I think you two might find that a nice change of pace."
The two of them blinked. Despite his supposed explanations, they still understood nothing.
"Anyways, dinner will be served in an hour. I hope you enjoy fruit!"
Ahsael looked out from the bridge of the Gallow's Eye, staring into Monstrum's smog-filled sky. Hidden within the depths of the ash-colored clouds, shrouded in their auspex-confusing effects and mystical enchantments alike, the Falchion-class escort, the greatest trophy of past glories Ahsael could claim as his own, hung aloft in the atmosphere under its own power. Its primary engines were cold, though only for now. Instead, the craft hovered within its black cloak, as if held there by a great invisible hand.
Had the clouds been blown away by some unprecedented gust of wind, the craft would have been quite noticeable. All a citizen of Dolus would need to do was crane their heads upwards to see the escort jutting out from the hive spires of their city where it had remained docked in perpetual secrecy for years now. Yet, even then, none would. Powerful sorceries made the gazes of the weak-willed slide away from the craft like water. Only a few of this world could have looked directly upon Ahsael's flagship.
"Final system's check," Uirus called out, acting in his role as the vessel's commander. "All stations, state readiness."
One-by-one, the various cultists who worked the bridge called out, announcing the proper working order of their own responsibilities. Unlike those being left behind, these were members of the cult that Ahsael had brought with him to this world or otherwise had determined to be trustworthy or valuable enough to take away from it.
"All systems are ready, my lord," Uirus said, turning to address Ahsael, who sat upon the command throne of the vessel. The flayed skin of its former captain draped the back of it, while the fleshless head, with the exposed muscles of its face and eyes that screamed in pain and wept blood, was planted atop it, mouthing silent words that only Ahsael could hear and understand.
"Take us out," Ahsael commanded and it was so. His vessel shifted, though none of them felt it save for the slight thrumming of the reactor. It drifted, almost like a ship of old caught in a river's stream, floating away from the spires of Dolus and into the sky's ashen sea.
For hours, the bridge was silent save for the occasional report of information. All the while, the Gallow's Eye headed north, towards the Barren Lands and its latest firestorm. The ship's systems were at their lowest possible power setting to avoid detection, as even the smog that covered Monstrum could not be expected to hide the power surge of a warship. Even the ambient noise of the ship's bridge had diminished, as though even the twisted machine-spirits and daemons that inhabited this place recognized the need for silence.
They were a predator fish stalking its prey. It was only when they were a mere minute away that Ahsael broke the silence.
"Prepare," was all he said.
"Torpedo tubes one through four, lock targets and prepare to fire!" Uirus thundered. "All systems to be brought back to full power! Now!"
Like a corpse coming to life, the bridge's breathless atmosphere shattered, replaced by a raucous of commotion as reports were shouted out, cogitators returned to activation, and various other systems coming on with the blinking of lights like eyes. It is not instant, but Uirus had been drilling the crew endlessly for the previous few days in preparation for this moment. They make good time and are prepared to fire within three minutes. Three minutes that the Enemy has had to detect the sudden surge of power with their auspex scans.
"Bring us up," Ahsael ordered as he studied the hololith of Monstrum's surface displayed in the air before his throne, the four hive cities that blinked with targeting indicators taking his focus. While no ship the size of the Gallow's Eye would have been given weapons as powerful as those needed to carry out an Exterminatus, Ahsael did not need to destroy a planet. Only a few cities.
"Fire when ready," Ahsael called out. There was no time for dramatics now, he knew, nor any delay. Within moments, a response came.
"Torpedoes away, my lord," Uirus said, just as the Gallow's Eye broke through the clouds, its previously cold engines roaring into life. Like the breath of a Terran myth, four torpedoes streamed out of the vessel's prow with the power of dragon's fire, rocketing through the atmosphere towards their targets. It would be less than half a minute before the first one reached the closest hive of Malum. The next would be Limos, then Enyo, then Whiro.
"You have the frequency?" Ahsael asked needlessly. Uirus nodded, tapping a button on his gauntlet to activate the voxcast that would reach the ears of the leaders of Dolus, Eris, and Ate, those cities that had remained loyal to his designs.
"This is Lord Ahsael of the Gallow's Eye, acting in support of the loyalists fighting against the tyranny of the false governor Selvik and his false-Inquisitor. I have just launched missiles at our enemies. Do not fear the presence of my vessel, my allies."
With that, Ahsael gestured to Uirus and the vox cast cut off. The first torpedo was nearly upon Malum… Only for the hololith to blur and shake as confused auguries struggled to make sense of a strange energy surge in that area. An instant later and the image cleared. The torpedo had exploded, but far too soon, its datacast claiming to have struck something that had seemingly appeared in front of it. The resulting shockwave might damage the surface, but the actual effects would be far from devastating.
Similar occurrences happened before the torpedoes reached the other hives. Ahsael watched on without surprise. He'd realized what would happen the moment he'd scried those Lightning fighters teleport in from nowhere over Whiro.
"We've come about, my lord," Uirus alerted Ahsael. The sorcerer merely nodded. "Torpedo tubes one through four, reload, lock new targets, and prepare to fire!"
It was another minute, but Ahsael watched as the void shields covering Malum and the rest of the Imperial hives activated, in record time. Even the hives Ahsael hadn't expected to be so thoroughly infiltrated by the Entity yet were mere moments behind. Only three hives hadn't bothered. The very three hives Ahsael had just voxxed to inform of his allegiance towards.
"Fire when ready," Ahsael repeated. Once more, the response came.
"Torpedoes away."
Ate, with Lord Janiel sent there to guide them into the Dark Prince's waiting arms, had seen through his ruse. Skyfire batteries opened up on the two torpedoes encroaching upon their airspace, destroying them with only minimal damage to the Ate hive caused by the aftershock. It was possible that the Lord had even learned of the Gallow's Eye and Ahsael's plans and prepared for this very situation. Slaanesh-worshipper he might be, he was a capable schemer.
It seemed that Eris had not benefited from Janiel's scheming, however. No skyfire batteries filled the sky with flak, no fighter craft rose to try and intercept the rapidly encroaching warheads. Ahsael felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips as other two torpedoes approached their targets… only for another burst of interference to scatter his auguries.
"Damn," He muttered, a scowl crossing his face. The slaves and cultists about him shrunk away. Then, he sighed. He hadn't expected the Entity to want to intercept a missile headed towards an enemy city, but perhaps it had recognized that Ahsael was attempting to deny it any further industrial might. As it was, there was only one trick he had left to play…
Ahsael tapped a button on his gauntlet. It was a single, simple command, cast through his armor, then to his ship, and then to the additional warheads that had been strategically positioned throughout the hive city of Dolus' superstructure.
With a smile of satisfaction, Ahsael watched the hololithic imagery of Dolus, untouched by the interference of his enemies, the very city that had harbored him and his growing schemes for this world. The hive city's spires were like spears tied together with rope so they might stand as one. The exploding warheads, carefully planted within certain sections of the city, removed that rope and gravity did the rest.
In the spires of Dolus, there live a nobleman and his family. He had sold his soul to protect them from the cults that had taken over, serving dark powers in exchange for promises that they would not be harmed. He had become unrecognizable to his family as he was changed from the inside out, but he believed that his love for them still was what guided his hand. His name was Caldor and he stood within the central spire of Dolus and watched as it plummeted towards the city below.
In the base of Dolus' spires, there lived a woman and her child. The woman worked hard and was proud of her labors, proud of being able to provide for her child, even if she was sad she did not get to see her as often as she would like. Even so, her favorite part of the day was when she left work and returned to find her young one, often being cared for by another hab block resident. The woman's name was Tasha and she was crushed under a mountain of factory machinery and rubble as her world buried her and her child.
In the underhive of Dolus, there lived a hive ganger. He was not the kindest of men, but those who were kind in the Underhive ended up dead. He was a survivor and he fought his way tooth and nail in order to breathe for just another day. One never knew when it would all be taken away, after all. His name was Larian and he was vaporized in an instant by one of the warheads that had been placed near his gang's hideout.
In the depths of Dolus, there lived a mutant child. They were abandoned at birth by their parents, but taken in and raised in a community of others like them and even stranger still. The community was small and moved around often to avoid detection. They had fled when the first of the cultists had come to offer promises of revenge, wishing only to be left alone. The mutant's name was Corvin and he was trapped in a section of tunnel that had not completely collapsed, slowly suffocating to death.
Ahsael grinned as the hive city's collapse could be felt even from thousands of kilometers away, an artificial earthquake of colossal scale. He was pleased to have at least denied his enigmatic foe even a single hive. Now, to depart before any further response could be-
There was a sudden flash of vaguely purple light, so powerful it nearly blinded even his gene-crafted eyes, and alarms suddenly blared into life with the shrieking fury of a daemonspawn. It took Ahsael a moment to tear his eyes away from the datacast of the hive city falling, and another moment to realize the alarms signified a proximity alert, something directly above the void shields had just appeared, accompanied again by the interference that caused the auspexes to spasm as if they were a nervous system flooded suddenly by electricity. Then, there was a horrific moment of imbalance as the ship suddenly listed to the side, accompanied by a sound like the peal of a thunderstorm.
Taking only a moment to regain his balance as the ship fought to do the same, Ahsael stormed forwards, coming to the viewport and looking upon the surface of his ship. Or rather, looked upon the thing that covered it.
Like flesh without bone, a massive lifeform had struck and attached itself to his craft, almost looking like a part of the Warp-tainted vessel, but this was no new gift of the Chaos Gods. Tendrils large enough to toss about Baneblades like toys wrapped down and around the vessel, buckling armor plating where they exerted themselves. Those who were present on the bridge with him and had a view of the creature stared in slack-jawed horror.
"Activate external defenses, engines to maximum!" Ahsael snapped out his orders, which were followed at least by those who hadn't seen what was happening. Reducing one staring bystander to ash with a blast of Warp-fire seemed to get the rest into action.
It didn't seem to matter all that much, Ahsael realized as he heard the shriek of twisting and tearing metal. The daemons within the ship were roaring in pain and Ahsael watched as one of the warped tendrils that had grown out of his ship from the possession get wrapped around by another and torn away, producing a particularly painful sounding shriek from the trapped creatures. An eye the size of a battle tank and stared with nine irises was slowly being cut away at by tendrils tipped by claw-like protrusions that were taller than Ahsael himself. The creature, whatever it was, seemed quite intent on going after the corrupted portions of the ship with vicious ferocity.
Ahsael didn't get to see much more, as the viewport of the bridge was covered by a tendril that had snaked around it. With horror dawning in his heart, he stared with wide eyes as the tendril seemed to grow razor sharp claws that glistened like chitin, hundred of the things, thousands of them along its length, all beginning to scratch away at the viewport.
With a burst of sorcerous power wielded expertly to only effect the outside of the ship, the tendril ignited in blue flames and retracted, though it did not seem to be in as much pain as he'd have expected it to be. It drew back, further and further and he watched as the burning portion of the tendril fell away, almost like slime that was stretched until it came apart. The stump that remained seemed to draw the biomass of other portions, regenerating with frightening speed, its end this time becoming covered in something like a giant spike.
Still, if they could damage enough of the biomass, then-
Ahsael's thoughts were cut off by the sudden realization at what the intent behind the spike was. He leapt back, calling upon the currents of the Warp to make him even faster, all but slamming into his command throne, causing the fleshless head of the captain to whimper in pain, though that may have been the state of his ship. Regardless, the spike-tipped tendril shot forward with horrific speed and all the power of a thunder storm. Like a bullet passing through flesh, it shot through the viewport, the spearpoint passing right through where Ahsael had been standing less than a second earlier, the size of the tendril ensuring nearly half-a-dozen slaves were either plastered under it or were sent flying back by the shockwave with even greater force than Ahsael himself had been. Unable to stop even after breaking the view port, the tendril continued its angled ascent into the ceiling, burying itself meters deep in the armor of the Gallow's Eye, which shook with the force of the strike.
It was then that the engines finally fired up to full, only for an explosion to rock the ship. Then, Ahsael felt in both the literal and the figurative sense that the floor was being pulled out from under him.
The Chaos vessel blasted forwards with all the rage of a feral beast. The force of its passing sent gale winds through the clouds, slicing open their surface like a blade through flesh. For the first time in uncounted millennia, those areas where the ship passed were touched by the harsh light of Monstrum's sun, pouring through the clouds like the blood of that wound.
The ship burned its way south, but this was no controlled crash or final attempt to destroy its enemy. The engine block at the aft of the vessel was ablaze with fires both promethium and other, less material energies, dragging an ugly, pyrotechnic scar across its face. It passed over the ruins of Dolus, still crumbling in on themselves even as flashes of vaguely purple energy and strange creatures emerged from pods to scuttle over its collapsing surface, searching for any who might have survived. Those that could be vanished, wrapped for an instant within the shining embrace of a construct of gentle starlight.
The ship continued on. The flames burned hotter and hotter, spreading across the ship, even as the air began to turn cold, a change not felt anywhere else on Monstrum. Soon, the ashen clouds bled their contents, black snow falling and blinding all but the strongest of Auspexes. Through this blizzard, the vessel made its final voyage.
On the ship itself, any who had not already been killed sought purchase in some place secure. Only the invader, the mass of biomass still on the hull, continued its endless assault, ripping through the hull of the ship and inflicting further damage. Pieces of daemon-tainted artifice were flung away, hurtling to the ground like meteors, while spikes and hooks made of xenos chitin ripped and tore with greater and greater fury.
But fury could not sustain it forever. The flames began to ebb, flesh began to freeze. Within the vessel, rated to withstand the extremes of space and beyond even that, few were killed by the weather outside. But the invader was exposed and even the furs it swiftly grew for itself could not protect it for long as the temperature dropped further and further below zero.
Tendrils wreathed in ice wrapped tighter to try and hold on, only to crack and fracture as they were frozen solid. Some pieces stuck to the hull, but others flew away to join the rain of detritus. Soon, the vast bioform had the last traces of its heat stolen from it. The bulk of the mass slid as its deathgrip on the vessel loosened. It narrowly missed the bridge as it flew away, becoming itself a meteor to crash to the world's surface.
When the vessel finally touched the ground again, there were no longer any Flood forms left alive to relay its status, only able to register a distant rumble from where they scuttled over Dolus that could easily have been the hive city itself. Yet there was no great explosion that could be seen, no fracturing of a power core that might have sent a shudder through the whole of the planet.
Even if it could not be seen, hidden within the dark side of Monstrum with the endless blizzards of the Freezing Wastes, Tide knew the ship had survived in some form or another.
And that could not be permitted.
