Ch.8: Out of Time

Heracio Santos had been delighted at the news of Salbatore's return. In truth it was a matter that had taken him by surprise. The Timeflayer, surprised. The universe was littered with irony.
He had been in touch with the Captain, and promised his reunion once he had answers.
That had been 2 weeks ago.

In the time since, the Timeflayer had secured a meeting with the Shadow Keepers, the Adeptus Custodes whose duty it was to lock up and watcher over the cruellest and vilest of creatures human or otherwise that not even death could find purchase. Soulless monsters that required the greatest of the Emperor's servants to watch over. It was to their hands the Librarian had handed over Malachi, the thrice cursed. The demented champion and warlord of the Mortnek Pandemica.

Krillion had begun speaking, and the Timeflayer could not be allowed to be distracted with prison guarding. How right the Time seer was.


Smoke.
Ash.
Lightening.

Whether it was flesh, stone or metal. None were left to remain.

The vision had been so real. Santos could taste the burning air, the copper tinge of blood. He could hear the screaming, the alien tongues. They wailed and wept. He saw devastation. Mighty monuments laid low. The Timeflayer reached out and a hand grasped him. Pleading desperately for aid or comfort, before it too turned to nought but ash.
There it was. The hopelessness. That nothing could be done to ever change this fate. It was here.
Santos dared to look up, above the destruction. A terrible shadow that held itself aloft above the wreckage, the smoke and the ash. It spoke. Only a single word. The Timeflayer's mind could not comprehend, he fell to his knees unwillingly, his eyes rolled into his skull. Darkness.

****

"Time Seer" came a familiar voice, "Mon'keigh, awaken I beg you..."
Santos opened his eyes, he nearly had to shield them from the sharp stabs of bright blue light.
"We have little time...Alexandros is too far and Galen's council will come no where near. Ardashir and Sarcoma search...but you soon shall be gone, as will I. "
"What...Where am I?"
"The Shatterering, a place neither here nor there. A single moment. A prison. For my Kin and I."
The Timeflayer began to recognise the being before him, he had seen it before. In the warp, chased after it. Santos began to open his mouth.
"Please Time Seer. No time for questions. We can not keep you anchored here for much longer, you are slipping..."
Santos against his better judgement held his tongue.
"You must go to the Abyss. The mouth is opening. What will pour out is untold decimation..."
The visuals infront of the Timeflayer's eyes flickered, blinked.
"...Suania abhors Doom, and we failed. The betrayer's succeeded after our imprisonment. closing off our tunnels..."
Another blink.
"...had it been another's fate, it may never have come to this, but for the foul Promise that landed and cracked open the earth..."
Blink.
"...your race did this, and now all of the galaxy will suffer..."
Blink. Blink.
"...only hope is to follow my kin underground, they will show you how to get..."
Blink. Blink.
"No we are losing him... No, see to the others, we must show them the way, it is our sacrifice...
Blink. Blink. Blink.
"Time Seer... Stop D..."

****

The Timeflayer woke up, exhausted. He was knelt on the floor, his body drenched in sweat. Blood had dripped from his ears and nose, which were already clotting. What manner of vision had that been? He had not meditated nor begun a ritual of transition. The Exilium City Command Centre was a hive of activity. Santos senses return to their normality and he was able to pick up sensations around him. Something serious had occurred. He closed his eyes and listened. Phantoms. Phantoms had been reported flickering and blinking out of existence across Suania. Also, the dark eldritch storm had returned.

Ch.8: Hidden Woes

THE COLLAPSE. DOOM'S MAUL

Melchizedek strode up the winding path and found the Astartes Captain surveying the sea as it crashed it's salty, murky, waves against the rocks far below. Again and again and again.

"Duty is the greatest Honour, but a burden nevertheless..." Spoke the Custodian.
"...A burden I bear gladly for His glory." replied Stefano Salbatore's, finishing off the well known words of his Primarch.
The Captain should have known that one of the Golden Legion would be able to read him like words on a parchment.

Shield Captain Melchizedek of the Emissaries Imperatus stood beside the Crimson Fist, arms behind his back and his grey-white waist cloth flickered in the sea breeze. Eyes gazing across the ocean, towards Demensne.
The Crimson Fists were finally here, established and now ready to venture the Feral Continent. It was here in this dreadful and forsaken landscape where the Orks were believed to have set up base camp. Of course, except for long slaughtered Greenskin bodies, they were no where to be found. A spearhead force accompanied by their crusading allies, Wyrdmane's Wolves were attempting to push through the frozen north.

The Air here, tasted bitter sweet. You could not deny the thriving jungle and yet everything spoke of death. 'The Collapse' was a place of ruin, a long ago seafaring settlement that had part plummeted into the ocean and part eaten by the jungle. It was clear Doom's Maul did not wish to be tamed.

"You know... the Crimson Fists have a reputation even on Terra. One I am grateful to confirm, Dorn would be proud of." stated Melchizedek very matter of factly.
Salbatore allowed himself a rare smile.
"I thank you for your words Shield-Captain. How may I be of service?" Asked the Primaris marine, only turning his head after speaking his question.
"I have come to speak with you, Stefano Salbatore."

The Captain didn't know what to think, other than this was clearly a test. Melchizedek didn't waste a moment following up.

"You have walked this world these past months, speak to me of what you have witnessed with your own eyes...and judgement."
Salbatore said nothing, and silence hung between the two warriors, then he began as he understood  Melchizedek's intent.

"The Greenskins have abnormally overran a world far quicker than any known Waaagh! to date. Historical data-nodes of Krillion space record no known Ork activity in this sector, until this event. None of the defensive orbital platforms ever fired a shot. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they just appeared... This. This is what I seek to understand. So that no Ork can replicate this kind of tactic and go unchallenged."

The Custodian nodded, seemingly satisfied with Salbatore's assessment.
"What of the traitors?"

"The mongrels of chaos only seek to capitalise on this world's suffering. Colonel Cranis of the 86th is providing a bulwark to stem their interference, however reports from their lines suggest psychic phenomenons... Either there is an imminent daemon threat, such as the Plague ready to spew upon Suania anew or perhaps a message is seeking it's means to be made known, either to them or to us,as unpredictable a communication method as it is.
I think not the former, as your presence here suggests otherwise."

Melchizedek grunted, he was beginning to like the Captain.

"There is the matter of the Necrons. They were first brought to our attention in Demensne, as we defended the Cathedral. They have eluded us with their intentions, so too amongst the Crusade Council. Chief Arathon despite his conflicts is none the wiser."

"An anomaly..." pondered the Shield Captain aloud. "Arathon as been distracted with the south has he not?"
"From what I am able to piece together, his chapter along with a contingent of Iron Hands have been fighting a war in the Telokin Wastes from Thousand Sons and a band of vile war engines called 'Pandemica', until recently where a Plague of unclean daemons have swept across from the west...

Salbatore paused then added "Things seem too messy on Krillion, there is something I'm missing. Too much is going on for it to be coincidence. All the activity, the shroud of chaos, the waves of Orks, even the amount of Imperial presence. A veil has been cast. Something hiding in all the noise. What is Krillion hiding...?

"A question we have come to answer... shall we go Captain Salbatore, to look so we may find..."

Melchizedek wasn't asking. He was directing. The Primaris Captain turned and followed the Golden Warrior. Duty called.

ISILORE'S PATH, ROGUE'S OCEAN

The ancient path and derelict ruins of a bygone age that married the regions of Suania and Rogue's Ocean had until now been silent and all but forgotten. Now they stirred.
phantom's flickered as they moved, the moonlight barely capturing their existence in the dark overhang of the cliffs and jungle tops. Rune's pulsed with a shimmering energy from a long slumber...only to die.
Phantoms from a dozen, began to swell in size as they congregated down the stony steps towards the lowly coast line that looked eastward.
Powerless they watched. hoping. fading.

THE FORGOTTEN VALLEY, SUANIA
They couldn't wait no longer.
They had to try.
They had to do something.
They would march.

It could not be allowed.

Ch.8: Assault on Mengnar

Vulpus vibrated softly, a sharp high pitched whistle emitting from her body. Her eyes glowed green as she scoured through ancient texts for clues about the breach. Her mind spilled out deep into the machine spirits of the mighty Facility. Multiple wires and cords plugged her body into the consoles. Acolytes gathered around chanting holy rites to the omnissiah above her quivering form.

The Iron Father Stood, observing, scowling, deep in thought. This was indeed a worrying turn of events. An unexpected attack upon Mengnar, but from who? Perhaps the Orks who had blown up the pipelines? Surprisingly stealthy for the Brutish Xenos, and what would the green skins want from the data banks? Perhaps then not Xeno? Seanair had no doubts that NEGATIVE-5T4R would have had survivors, Zero-Four would be interested in what the Iron Hands had discovered. The Exorcists also came to mind, the relationship between the two had become rocky when they had requested entry into the facility, had they gone behind The Iron Hands back? This would be most troublesome. A fight amongst themselves would only make them weaker against the filthy Xeno and the disgusting heretics of this planet. Speaking of Heretics, what of the Mortenok Pandemica? They had rooted themselves deep within this planet, rotting it from the inside out. Seanair pondered if the presence if the warp entities had anything to do with them. Or perhaps the Thousand Sons? Crafty witches of deceit and guile, their ways dripping with cruel rites and forbidden powers. They were a dirty festering wound upon the galaxy that needed to be scrubbed away. Many sides to this complex war.

What ever happened next the Iron Hands knew their next move. All they needed was the assistance of their only ally on Krillion. The Omnissiah's Wrath had proven to have many uses, and if what was to be believed was true no life forms had been detected upon the ship. Clearly its secrets left untouched. Krillion was filled with many hidden surprises so what was waiting for them uncovered by the tsunami?

"Iron Father," a voice cracked with static from a nearby Tech Priest "An urgent message from above. There has been a breach."

"Another!? How are they entering undetected into the data vaults?" Seanair boomed in fury.

No sir, you misunderstand," the crackling voice continued "The breach is the outer wall."

The priest drew back his robes revealing a data slate in his chest. On the screen it showed massive towering knights marching across the snowy landscape.

"Prepare for battle! Bring the storm to Mengnar! The Pandemica will be stopped!"