Lord Commander Erus..

It is not done yet, but here is what I have managed to write. More to come as the writers block vanishes.

In the Maelstrom, a matte black ship slipped silently forth from the warp. Coruscating flames of pearlescent colors flickered and flared all over the ship, lighting the red sky around it. Gibbering daemons leaped and ran about it’s hull in every putrid and revolting color of the spectrum, some of them there for barely an instant before exploding in shimmering bits of immaterial energy.

Each though, no matter how weak, left furrows in the massive battleships side. At least they did until sections of the hull slid back, and auto defense batteries whirred into place, lancing needle thin las beams into the inky darkness and swiftly bringing the Emperors justice to the foul denizens of the warp.

Within the bridge stood a figure of awe-inspiring size, armored in pure golden armored crafted by master artisans. Severe and taciturn, his patrician features were currently twisted into rage, his ice-blue eyes so cold they made an approaching Imperial Navy sergeant void his bladder and about face, piss trailing him as he ran for what he thought was his life.

This figure, encased in armor as austere yet beautiful as his face, turned to watch the man go with a shake of his head. His massive left hand, gauntleted in ceramite and etched with a double-headed aquilla, rested at his hip atop a closed face helm of antiquity, it’s knightly visage wreathed about the brow with small angels wings, a fiery red sapphire seeming to spring forth from the left corner of the visor, giving the impression of weeping blood.

“Hastor, damage reports. Get any major damage fixed now. Olinas, power all down but defensive batteries and re-patch to the engines. Those deserters will escape if we can not close and board them.’

Most would have stopped and stared to see an Astartes so familiar with the runnings of the ship, but Adonis had been a long time in the warp and obscure corners of the galaxy chasing the rumors of renegades from his own Chapter, the Black Saints, and had learned to command a battleship of necessity.

“Viscini… “

A frail looking man, elderly though still dressed in immaculate drab grey naval uniform so heavily starched it was likely all that kept him standing, stood at attention with a creak and pop. His salute was firm though, and the steel in his old eyes showed that he was one who had fight in him still.

‘Lord Adonis, sir?�

“Viscini, how many of those drop pods have the tech-adepts managed to fit with thrusters and boarding harnesses?�

The eldery man grabbed a worn data slate crested in the seal of the Chapter he had given his life to, and mulled over the screen before him.

“8 so far, and two more will be done before the morrow. It is slow going, as the drop pods machine spirit is resistant to such drastic changes.�

“Damn spirits, damn machines, and damn those adepts! I need the last two pods down on the hour! THE HOUR! Those deserters will be in strike distance within two, and I must have my men with me. We will tear the very throat from these weaklings and show the foul Usire what his duplicity has earned him.�

Viscini gulped, sensing the battle-rage in his lords eyes and merely nodded, bowing and scraping as best his popping spine would allow. As he went, Adonis sighed, looking down at the command-altar before him, and the instruments of death lain on it. An elegant, keen edged sword lay before him, its hilt still the same near-relic he had wielded since being promoted to a squad sergeant centuries ago.

The blade however, was wholly new, re-made after his slaying of the keeper of secrets on Xiseli, and his battle with the crazed Lord Commander Erus, a traitor marine on the brink of bringing Cadia to it’s knees. It gleamed a bright, sun fire white from the ancient power amplifiers and doubling fields set in the quillons of it, which took the form of flared angel’s wings flanking a massive red crystal, the source of the flickering like ghost flames that licked at the blade, burning nothing that existed in the material realm. But as Adonis had seen first hand, it would burn any daemon in the holy light of the Emperor, turning to cinders and ash any of the warp-spawned filth.

Besides it stood a simple, worn bolt pistol. It had been issued to Adonis upon his elevation to being a battle brother. Often the Chapter armories and artificers had tried to press upon him beautifully carved and crafted pieces, but every time he had declined them politely. His would do him, until the Emperor called him to His side. His would do.