Knights of Iron

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own, nor have I ever owned, Warhammer Fantasy, Warhammer 40,000, or any other Games Workshop game. I am not making money by the publication of this story, and any characters in here you recognize (i.e. the ones I didn't make up) are also owned by Games Workshop - god bless their little souls.

A/N: For some reason - maybe because I use a mac - I cannot select multiple whichamathings. I forget the name. Angst, M/F, those things, so I will note all of them here.

[ Non-Erotic, Violence, Angst, Original Character, Other]. If one or more of these story types do not interest you, I suggest leaving now. :)

ON TO THE STORY!

Chapter One: Affirmation of Faith

“Sir, I don’t know what we’re gonna do! These aren’t just ‘cultists’ like intel said!” Imperial Guard Private First Class Alance Chrisnable voxed frantically, lasgun firing a few times at the oncoming Horde of enemies.
“You will do your duty to the Emperor. Whether you live or die matters little, for if you die defending in His name, He will take you to His side for eternity,” Commissar Kelde growled back over the vox.

The Guard forces were in disarray. Half their numbers thinned by the onslaught of the Traitor legions. At first, it was supposed to have been just a small cult, nothing major, and the Forces that Be had deemed the backwater planet’s small Imperial Guard detachment capable of quelling the uprising. And they were right. Up until the dreaded Black Legion dropped on their rear, that is. And the Guard forces of Vactal were now the ones being ‘dealt’ with. Their Colonel had been killed early in the fighting, and the Sanctioned Psykers attached to their numbers had already succumbed to the presence of Chaos, one by one, going insane, catatonic, or, in Psyker Danron’s case, simply covering several square meters of ground with red, which, upon closer inspection, resembled jam more than what used to be human. Commissar Kelde said that the Psykers’ fates were more proof of the ‘taint of unnatural power’, but, then again, the Commissar had never liked Dangron much anyways.

Alance was about to reply to the Commissar with a meek affirmative, there was the sound of a loud ‘CRACK’, followed by a whistling noise, and, a few seconds later, half of Alance’s body was covered in the gore of his squad-mates.
“Sir, Defilers! There’s a whole line of them, advancing on our position!” someone shouted over the vox.
“Defilers!? We’re dead!”
“What are we supposed to do?!”
“Is that a Bloodthirster?!”
The voices went on and on, the morale of the Guardsmen broken, and the Commissar tried desperately to make his voice heard.

But Alance wasn’t listening to the voices, and he wasn’t running. He simply stood there, staring down the sights of his rifle, unable to move or fire. Walking down the field of battle were four of the most horrible things he had ever seen. 3 meters tall, clad in the most horrific Battle Armor imaginable, each with marks Chaos about them. Everyone had heard the rumors, but Alance had never given them much credit. Until now.

Chosen Terminators.

But who they escorted down the field was more horrifying even than them. Dressed in the blackest of armor, trimmed in gold, whose Black Crusades were feared throughout the Imperium…was Abaddon the Despoiler. His Lightning Claw was clenched at his side, and his pale gaze slowly swept over the puny Imperial forces that lay before him…before his eyes stopped at Alance.

Suddenly, his world was filled with pain, as the sound of a million screaming souls filled his mind. His hands flew to his ears, dropping the lasgun, in a pitiful attempt to block out the noise, but to no avail. He clenched his eyes shut tight, sobbing bloody tears as he began to thrash this way and that.
“Make it stop! Someone, please, make it stop!” he screamed.
“I can make it stop…,” came an oddly soothing voice in his mind, and the pain ceased almost immediately.
“W-what…?” he replied, blinking his eyes in an effort to clear his still-blurred vision.
“This pain you feel…and this servitude…you are nothing but a pawn, to be used and discarded by your ‘Emperor’…but if you join me…you will be a hero…”
“Who…who are you?” Alance asked softly.
“I am called Traitor by some…by my Comrades know me as the Liberator…”
“Abaddon…,” Alance breathed.
“Yes…now…come to me…look…some of your comrades see the Light…,” the Black Traitor replied with a benevolent tone. And he spoke the truth. About a dozen guardsmen had thrown down their weapons and ran from the trenches, throwing themselves down at the Despoiler’s feet. From behind Abaddon came a few other Guardsmen, dressed in tattered uniforms, hair lank against their skulls, covered with crude tattoos, and their smiles were sickly, almost a grimace, as they held their arms open wide to welcome their new comrades.
“DO IT! “ Abaddon screamed in his brain, and suddenly the pain, the shrieking of the damned, returns a thousandfold.

But just as quickly as the pain had returned, it faded. Alance looks up, searching for the reason behind what he considered a very real miracle, and his eyes went wide as he found it.

Commissar Kelde had leapt from the trenches, his towering form running towards the Traitor at incredible speeds, cape billowing behind him, his Chainsword seeming to scream along with him. But instead of attacking Abaddon, he did his Duty first. His Chainsword swung down to the first traitorous Guardsmen, Bolt Pistol thundering as he shot again and again…until each of the heretics lay dead or dying on the ground. Abaddon watched without taking action, lip slowly curling in anger, as the Commissar slowly turns to face the Black Crusader, Chainsword raised in challenge.

Abaddon stared at Kelde for what seems like hours, before he laughed, a horrible sound, and nodded softly.
“Very well. If you are so eager to die, little man, I will grant you your wish,” he said with a disdainful sneer. The Commissar’s eyes flashed, before he literally threw himself at Abaddon, voice reverberating across the battlefield even as he attacked the Despoiler.
“He is my shield! My Faith in Him Eternal! The Emperor Protects, and to repay Him I serve with all that I have! I shun the Heretic! I vanquish the Xeno! I serve Him as He serves Man!” Kelde shouted, Chainsword singing through the air, cutting again and again towards Abaddon, who merely ducked and dodged, listening impassively to the Commissar’s battle prayer, before he grinned, and his Lightning Claw arcs up, catching the Chainsword in mid-air between them, sparks flying as the Sword’s moving edge tried in vain to cut through the Unholy weapon, and Kelde’s nostrils flare.
“How DARE you touch a weapon of the Emperor!? You are the lowest of scum, the filthiest of -.”

No one would ever know what Kelde would say, for the Despoiler had grown tired of the duel with the Commissar, and, as their weapons hovered between them…squeezed off a single shot with the Storm Bolter mounted atop his Lightning claw, blowing a hole the size of a plate clean through Kelde’s chest, and the once proud Commissar’s body crumpled to the ground.

Abaddon grinned in triumph, raising his foot above Kelde’s corpse…but was knocked off his feet as, behind him, a Defiler exploded, taking a half dozen Chaos Marines along with it.

“Forces of the Imperium, take heart! The Chamber Militant of the Ordo Malleus has not forgotten you!”


Post-Scriptum: Well, there's the first chapter! The next one will be up...whenever you guys want it to be! JUst let me know if you like it or not. :)