Right, I wrote this in about 1 hour, and it's nowhere near finished. This is just a small draft of the actual thing. But I wanted you guys to help me with ideas etc.. just tell me what you think, and what needs to be improved + Added (I'm not terribly big on fluff)
Oh and yeah, I know I'm implying the High Lords have meetings near to the Golden Throne.. but meh..
I am going to make a project out of this, which will hopefully carry on the story to the rebuilding + Purging, but first I've got to get this done..
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The High Lords of Terra laid before Calaetius, their necks open, and stained with blood. Their bodies slumped forward. He had slain the very corruption that controlled the Imperium. He had achieved what he had wanted for so long.. Now, he stepped towards the Golden Throne, its Custodian Guard lying in pools of stagnant red, the Emperor himself sat upon it, wires and tubes flowing into his body. A corpse-like figure. The supposed ruler of all the Imperium. A twisted image of his former glory. Questions rose in Calaetius.
What will happen? Will he return? Will the Imperiuim be purged?
Calaetius had done well to get this far. He had risen to position of Inquisitor, through years of apprenticeship. The fools had trusted him. His master had never suspected him. Now his Master was dead by Calaetius' own knife, disguised as an assassination, and Calaetius was named Inquisitor Calaetius Angelus. 3 Years, he persued the Enemies of the Imperium. But all along, he had harbored a burning desire to destroy the Imperium, and the pathetic High Lords who held a fallacy over the eyes of the loyal citzens. Loyal to the Emperor. To build the Imperium anew, with the rebirth of the great and holy Emperor!
Calaetius began to laugh at the idiocies of the Imperium. He had been chosen to represent the Inquisiton as a High Lord. The very thing he had been waiting for! And now the fools who had appointed him lay dead before him, destroyed and banished to the warp! He had freed the Imperium from the chains of its "Protectors." He could sense the approaching Adeptus Astartes. Two of them, armed with Holy Bolt Pistols and Chain Swords. But he did not fear them. His deed would soon be done, and they would look upon a new and reborn Emperor! The High Lords had feared to do what HE would, for they feared their own destruction. But Calaetius would welcome the destruction if it served his Almighty God-Emperor.
He walked close to the Golden Throne and examined the instruments around it. All used to preserve the Emperor's life, pipes, tubes, wires, all keeping his body in a state of near death life. The Emperor himself was no great figure. He was a mere corpse. His body shattered beyond all hopes of repair. Though his mind was still unbroken after all these years, Calaetius could sense the want of freedom, of revenge, of renewing in the great Emperor. And so, in what seemed like a full age, Calaetius stepped forwards, raising his blade, and plunged it deep into the heart of the Emperor. The heart of the Imperium. Around him he slashed and tore at the instruments keeping his Holy Father alive, destroying them, ripping them to tiny, insignificant pieces of metal.
Across the Imperium, hundreds of thousands of Adeptus Astartes felt pain. A dark, deep pain. Their Emperor was dead! Their very foundation, crumbled and torn! For they did not understand he would be reborn, greater and more powerful than ever, to lead them to the destruction of Chaos and its Gods. And so, a movement greater than any seen before began. Space Marines boarded their fleets, abandoning planets, battlefields, homeworlds, to fly to Terra. A huge mass of them travelling towards the beckoning call towards the planet that created them.
And across the expanse, Millions of Psykers' minds cried out in pain, their screams were heard everywhere. They fell to their knees as one, massive body, and clutched their heads, for they burnt and writhed. Their minds shattered, just as the Emperor's body just had.
Beasts of the Warp broke through the shield that had held them in their prison for so long, and all over the Imperium, men, women, children, became victims of destruction and terror, as the Chaos Gods looked on, laughing at the pathetic whelps they would soon enslave and control with their beasts.
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Calaetius stood before the wreck that was once an Emperor, and the crumbling Golden Throne, as Daemons poured through the gap he had created.
What.. have I done..
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But far beyond this... on a small planet, unaffected by the change and Chaos now sweeping the Mighty Imperium of Man, a small child was born. "A Star Child." The Birth of the New Imperium.. begins..