Chapter eight: In the end… War never changes.
#11 of Wh40k vs. Furries
Chapter eight: In the end... War never changes.
A voice reached his ear, but he couldn't quite place the direction.
"You have truly fought bravely."
It was powerful, yet gentle. Old and yet young. Caring but also anger sounded in it.
"Father?"
"No... although... no, not quite..."
The black was gradually replaced by a red.
"Who are you... show yourself..."
A figure stood out in the red glow.
"I have been known by many names throughout the ages. You and yours call me Khorne."
Ivar's eyes widened.
"No, no. Calm yourself. I don't want anything from you. On the contrary, you called me. And I answered your call."
The figure came closer. A tall man. Powerfully built. A warrior. His eyes were red. He wore a red robe with the mark of Khorne worked into the fabric. The rever was studded with brass. He wore combat boots, but they seemed strangely elegant. His posture exuded authority.
"I did not summon you. Why would I call you of all people."
The figure circled him with quiet but powerful steps. He held his hands in a scholars cradle and ever so often gestured a little while he spoke.
"Yes... strictly speaking, you did not summon me, but those you summoned will not come. Look here... your father... or rather your genfather, Leman Russ... well he's been gone, for almost 10,000 years... even if he still existed, how would he hear your call? And your Emperor? Well admittedly the little guy has given me a headache or two, but he's been sitting on his throne for 10,000 years now... he's got his hands full with his Astronomican."
The figure came to stand in front of Ivar. Its hands now clasped behind its back. He tilted his head slightly. Ivar searched for words to contradict the figure, but found none.
"But. I, have heard you. You are an exceptional warrior. Not many would have resisted the temptations of my youngest sibling for so long. But you are falling. In reality, you're about to lose."
Ivar looked to the ground.
"Yes... I failed... again... that's why I need strength... strength so I don't fall."
The figure shook its head. His face one of empathy.
"No. You have not failed. Not yet. But you will fail if I don't help you."
Ivar backed away.
"No. No if I accept your help I will FALL the same way."
The figure nodded in agreement. He gestured a so-so in the air before Ivar before closing his hands to a perfect scholars cradle again.
"Yes. Yes you will fall. This can no longer be prevented. Basically, you already fell in the first temple. I'm just giving you the chance to show this little scumbag one more time for real."
Ivar narrowed his eyes.
"Why would you, of all the dark gods, help me?"
The figure smiled. An old, cruel smile.
"Because that little prick is a pain in my ass. And because I could use another warrior in my army."
Ivar stared closely at the figure.
"If I fall, then my soul will never move to Vallhalla."
Now the figure burst out laughing holding his stomach. It was a real laugh, filled with warmth. And as he calmed down once again his voice was filled with genuine empaty.
"None of you have ever entered Vallhalla. All souls are stranded in the warp. The warp is the amalgam of all souls. Some souls have been here so long that they have ascended to something greater..."
The figure pointed to himself.
"...Others have only been here a short time and are being devoured."
The figure pointed to Ivar.
"But there is no Vallhalla, no Nirvana, no Paradise, no eternal hunting grounds, there is only the Warp. And there is me, offering you to at least die standing and victorious."
Ivar breathed heavily. The figure stood openly before Ivar smiling.
"You know, I'm not just as bad as everyone is telling you. Yes, yes... I am one of the big four. Yes I revel in the bloodletting and skull collecting. It's my spiel. But you also know I'm telling the truth. Why would I lie to you? I have nothing to gain from it. If you don't come to me, you'll go to Slaneesh... the little tormentor. That would be the ultimate loss, the absolute failure. But if you come to me, I will give you the power and the means to avenge yourself and your brothers."
The figure opened his hands and spread them out in front of him. Ivar gritted his teeth. As he looked at him, his eyes sparkled.
"I will banish the demon, I will avenge my brothers, but I will not lead your armies."
The figure closed his eyes and shrugged.
"My armies are countless. I do not depend on you. But why miss all the fun?"
His posture change significantly as he continued to speak, all of a sudden he was all business and no fun.
"Do we have a pact?"
As he extended his hand to Ivar his eyes glowed red and his smile was that of a devil, fangs and all. His hand was red, full of scars and scales, and so out of keeping with the rest of his appearance. When Ivar grasped it, his claw was in a red brass-studded gauntlet. While he was still wondering about it, the figure changed and took the form of the demoness sitting on him. His hand, together with the gauntlet and the energy claws, was up to his wrist in her chest.
The scream that escaped her throat was beyond human.
"What the... no... no this can't be. Why...?"
She jumped back and landed several feet away from him. She glasped the wound with her hand. As she removed it, it had already stopped bleeding. Immediately, a spear materialized in her hand.
"How dare you make a pact with HIM. Your soul belongs to me!"
As she screamed at him her voice became shriller with each word, so that the last words already hurt in his ears. Ivar felt a power flowing through him that was not his own. The runes in the helmet display were completely foreign to him, and yet he could understand them. His blood burned and his hearts pounded. He activated the energy claws on his gloves and launched into a battle cry:
"Blood for the Blood God... Skulls for the Skull Throne..."
He hesitated for a moment, had he really shouted that? He didn't get to think about it further as the demoness was already leaping towards him and thrusting her spear at him. Ivar nimbly dodged and smashed the shaft of the spear. The front end of the weapon clattered to the ground while the demoness whirled around and struck at Ivar with the other end. He parried with his claws and immediately fell back into an attack stance.
"Is that all you can do? Did you sell your soul to Khorne for this?"
Screeched the demoness, while she kept the same distance with Ivar. Ivar waited for the right moment, when she pounced, he jumped forward as well. He timed her attack, took the hit and rammed both claws into her body. With all his strength and the might the power armor gave him, he tore the demoness apart. Both halves of her body fell to the ground on different sides and before the demon could move, Ivar crushed her spine. Helplessly, her upper body lay before him, blood pouring from her torso and staining the boots of his armor.
"As I said. You can destroy this body, but you can't kill me. I am immortal."
Ivar shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes, perhaps, but it will also remain in your memory forever that you failed to seduce me. That it was I who banished you and that your master saw this failure."
Ivar raised his boot and before the demoness could answer, he rammed it into her face with all his might. Her skull burst like an overripe tomato and the floor unterneath cracked.
With her death, the atmosphere in the storeroom changed significantly. Not that it was any less creepy, or that the lights finally worked, but that ominous pressure that seemed to weigh on everything was suddenly gone. Ivar removed the demoness' weapon from his stomach. He would bleed for some time, but his body already responded to the wound. This would not kill him. He trudged over to the bodies of his Pack. He knelt down and picked up the heads of his two brothers and carried them to the bodies. He laid them neatly to their bodies, folded their hands and placed their weapons on their chests. He closed his eyes and sent a push prayer to the Emperor before kneeling before them, removing the helmet of his armor and waiting. He knew they would come to see if they were successfull, or to finish the job if not. He would give his report and then... peace.
It was nearly 12 hours before he heard the heavy footsteps of the power armor as they ran down the hallway outside the storage room. It would soon be over now. He closed his eyes and waited a while longer. He could already hear the footsteps coming closer and he heard the familiar distorted voices of the Astartes of the Order. He did not move. Only when he heard the order did he rise.
"Stand up traitor and show me your face."
Ivar slowly spun around. The Astartes' did not move, but he knew what was going on inside them. Two of his brothers raised their bolters. Ivar closed his eyes.
"No, not yet, I need to know what happened."
The inquisitor's voice sounded joyfully excited.
"Where did he get that armor? Where are... ah ok... there they are. And the demoness... alright, I see. Now speak up, what happened?"
Ivar opened his eyes, his anger burning in them, his fists clenched as he turned to the Inquisitor.
"We were too late, we were too few, we would have needed Wolf Priests. I was forced to..."
"He... he can speak again..."
Escaped the inquisitor. Ivar turned to the Astartes.
"Brothers, I am lost. Grant me the peace of the Emperor."
He knelt down and bowed his head. One of the Astartes stepped forward and raised his bolt pistol.
"No... no no no... you can't just shoot him."
"For the All Father."
Said the Astartes and pulled the trigger.
Then silence fell.