Askellonin Synnit

The Golden Spear

There will be blood

“Something wrong boss?”

There was no concern in Kerberos voice as he looked at Ice Heart who had suddenly stopped one of her speeches, stopping to stare through the bridge’s windows at something only she could see.
“I do not know. Did you not feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“That, shock. That, that slaughter. Thousands of lives, snuffed out in almost an instant. That power.

It was the first time Kerberos had ever heard even a hint of uncertainty in the voice of the cult leader. Ice Heart had so far been a fairly terrifying acquintance, nigh invincible monster, second only to the Crow himself and maybe Gorgon in power. But now, she was uncertain. That made Kerberos uneasy, even if he begun to consider his options. Still, probably should save that tidbit for later consideration, it was unlikely that-

“Sir! Ma’am! Something on the radar! It’s approaching fas-” the mercenary at the controls never got a chance to finish whatever he was about to say.

At first it was a golden flash, appearing the moment the mercenary begun to speak, but seconds later, it was there. An enormous golden spear. If the crew of the machine had been able to activate the shields, realign the weapons, if the spear had not been aimed at the sole weakness of the massive warmachine, it’s and been able to prepare, they could have had a chance at repelling the assault.

But they were surprised.

The spear tore through the armoured glass, through the nearest crew, through the complex machinery used to pilot the device, through the walls, through countless mercenaries and cultists, and into the heart of the monster, trailing behind it a chain of solid gold that lashed around like a snake, killing even more.
“No!” Ice Heart screamed, suddenly understanding. She felt it when the spear hit its target, the blood crystal, and she fell to her knees in agony. The spear begun to retract, ruining even more than it had done as it entered, somehow. Her clothing in shreds from the shrapnel of the impact, her mask partially broken, Ice Heart stood up, looking behind as the giant spear was approaching from behind, the chain taut and strong.

“You will not steal this from me”, she said silently, and grabbed the spear just as it was about to leave the bridge, holding onto it with all her inhuman, stolen strength. Her legs left behind skidmarks, but she finally stopped just at the edge of the ruined bridge, her feet held up against a ruined console, the fake flesh of her arms shearing away to reveal the damned bionics underneath. Her eyes were filled with red as she gazed upon the owner of the spear, a monster pulling away at the golden chain, trying to take its prize.

A daemon. A daemon prince. Of Slaanesh. Ice Heart heard as the survivors all around her were going insane from the sight of the marvelously terrifying being, and all of it filled her with rage. She needed the crystal, she was not going to let some freak of nature steal her fate from her! She knew not from whence the beast had came, the Slaanesh cult did not seem like they had the means to summon such monster, but Ice Heart cared little. What mattered, was that it was here, now, and opposing her.

“Calm yourselves you useless bastards! Activate the cannons! Shoot it you morons! SHOOT-”

There was a sudden numbness in her left arm. She wondered what for an instant, until she was pulled by the vast strength of the daemon, and Ice Heart saw what happened. Kerberos had chopped it off.
“I, Kerberos, pledge myself to thee, o Great Lady of Pain”, she heard as the spear slipped from her arms and she tumbled over the broken console, towards the cold, unforgiving sea, accompanied only by the inhuman laughter of the beast that had bested her so suddenly.

She screamed in rage the entire way down.

Hours later, the broken body of a woman washed ashore as a dark mist was slowly rising from the seas, the beaches of the Iron Isles still being mostly free of ice. She coughed and spat, slowly raising her up with her sole remaining arm, looking at the dark sky. Except, now it was not a shade of deep, dark red.

It was purple.

She saw the crashed warmachine, smoking in the water a few miles north of her, and felt rage bubbling inside of her, just as it had so many times before. A twist of fate, and her plans were in ruins. But, sitting there, she took some cold comfort in one, cold, hard fact.

She had seen where the daemon had flown before the mists had begun to appear, where it had hid itself in sanctuary.

She would regroup, she would seek allies new and old. She doubted she could right the course again, to achieve her original goal, or to fulfill Crow’s requests. To kill those who sought to save the sector that could not be saved. She cared little for that now. There was only one goal in her mind right now.



MikkoK MikkoK

I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.