Araphael
Warden of the 3rd Echelon, Phantom of Semita
With the force of a falling star wings of fire blazing a flurry of black, red and gold descended upon the barren wastes of signus prime. Hearts beat like ancient drums, aether like blood from open wounds evaporated into the atmosphere. He could taste the familiar metallic tank across his gums echoing the rituals undertaken some years ago, the trials that had molded his mind and body. 100 years service in the ranks before his ascension to the reclusiam, now his first command into hell itself….
The dream ended suddenly as it always had; shadows both angelic and daemonic circling overhead, a bestial taurine face and a great axe descending ……..,, Eyes gazed from the shadows of an ornate skull mask, landing upon ranks of warriors clad in scarlet. The loading deck of charlegmane flag ship of the 3rd echelon. They had just translated in system and his brothers made ready to deploy. He stepped forward and as one the marines saluted. A single trooper in quartered red and gold, stood forward “we stand ready, warden” his melodious voice played across the vox. Araphael heard himself reply in his own curt manner “let the wings unfurl” Battle for the Orbital Defences In the final moments of night ancient Haelios looked out across the lines; to his left the sicaran venator stood flanked by a rhino carrying tactical squad zenoth. At a sign of movement in the distance he voxed the crews to make ready and adjusted his position. Shots rang out from a traitor sicaran and he returned fire with the heavy carronades. time lapsed to a pause as the sensors in his sarcophagus detected movement behind him, still smoking from the first burst he spun full tilt to open up on the new targets barely giving a thought to what was left. Years ago Helios had been a heavy weapons sergeant in the unification wars, the familiar state of mind had long since become instinct. A burst of light filled his vision and his audio senses screamed as 6 forms in red and gold descended onto the field. Arathael and sergeant talos watched the sky turn black over the remains of the orbital defences. Some foul sorcery was clearly afoot, it always followed the sons of lorgar, coiling over their forms. His brothers had done what they could to blunt the probing thrust but a squad of the enemy had managed to slip through the lines. The wardens gaze turned to the remnants of his command, this was a setback but it would not prove his end. Arathael thought of Champion Rios forlorn attempt to cut the head from the daemonic advance, a sound tactic in most cases but on this occasion fruitless. The blood of his sire burned hotter fuelled with increasing determination to right this wrong. He thought of the lives saved by falling back when the ancient foe proved too great. He would return to fight the foe again with fresh insight and caution, there was no ground both physical or metaphorical on which the 9th feared to tread
The dream ended suddenly as it always had; shadows both angelic and daemonic circling overhead, a bestial taurine face and a great axe descending ……..,, Eyes gazed from the shadows of an ornate skull mask, landing upon ranks of warriors clad in scarlet. The loading deck of charlegmane flag ship of the 3rd echelon. They had just translated in system and his brothers made ready to deploy. He stepped forward and as one the marines saluted. A single trooper in quartered red and gold, stood forward “we stand ready, warden” his melodious voice played across the vox. Araphael heard himself reply in his own curt manner “let the wings unfurl” Battle for the Orbital Defences In the final moments of night ancient Haelios looked out across the lines; to his left the sicaran venator stood flanked by a rhino carrying tactical squad zenoth. At a sign of movement in the distance he voxed the crews to make ready and adjusted his position. Shots rang out from a traitor sicaran and he returned fire with the heavy carronades. time lapsed to a pause as the sensors in his sarcophagus detected movement behind him, still smoking from the first burst he spun full tilt to open up on the new targets barely giving a thought to what was left. Years ago Helios had been a heavy weapons sergeant in the unification wars, the familiar state of mind had long since become instinct. A burst of light filled his vision and his audio senses screamed as 6 forms in red and gold descended onto the field. Arathael and sergeant talos watched the sky turn black over the remains of the orbital defences. Some foul sorcery was clearly afoot, it always followed the sons of lorgar, coiling over their forms. His brothers had done what they could to blunt the probing thrust but a squad of the enemy had managed to slip through the lines. The wardens gaze turned to the remnants of his command, this was a setback but it would not prove his end. Arathael thought of Champion Rios forlorn attempt to cut the head from the daemonic advance, a sound tactic in most cases but on this occasion fruitless. The blood of his sire burned hotter fuelled with increasing determination to right this wrong. He thought of the lives saved by falling back when the ancient foe proved too great. He would return to fight the foe again with fresh insight and caution, there was no ground both physical or metaphorical on which the 9th feared to tread
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Liam Sullivan