NationStates Jolt Archive

Omens. Omens and dreams, older than life and death itself; transpired about the Coreworlds; like inexplicable rocks around the whirlpools and eddies, that somewhere in the void, hid Jurai. The jewel in a crown, tarnished and lost. A shadowy opal, hidden in the abyss. Yet now; it seemed as though events transpired; taunting the sons of Masaki. Mysterious events and occurances; dark enigmas, blackest mysteries. As though someone, something...Beckoned

In the Kindan system; three worlds burned; torn asunder by alchemical flame; the great symbols carved into their surface triggering memories in the minds of Coreworld Jedi and Alchemists; mysterious runes seared into the surface of the dead worlds speaking of vengence, Sacrifice and eternity. Unbreakable bonds and oaths in blood to unspeakable gods.

At Vensige; a virulent plague swept the central worlds in a matter of weeks; men and women collapsing in the streets; coughing and vomitting forth flies and blood; ichors saturating their tortured flesh. The mass graves stretched towards the horizon, the dead lining the streets. Blood and pus and pestilance ran beneath the feet of the living; as they looked towards the yawning abyss. Some spoke of the harbinger; inviting them in shadowed dreams and dfearful reality, to drink his offered goblet; be damned and saved. Some said they saw his great chariot cross the skies...

On Falnice V, pleasure cults rose up in ecstacy, awaiting a fulfillment that never comes; they kill themselves, and all they can find; till the main reactor of the capitol goes critical; and every living being within that city dies; lifeforce snuffed out in a single terrible and fell swoop. Again, runes are offered up; sacrifice, eternity; blood....

Asile III burns in a single night of slaughter and bloodshed. Pirates they say; terrible pirates from the abyss that swept down; once upon atrocity. Heartache compounds heartache; hell unleashed in every quarter, The pyres of burning, headless corpses make clear the brutality that transpires in a witching hour of madness and mayhem.

Across all these systems, the omens speak true; something comes; something terrible looms from the abyss; resplendant in sigils of terrible darkness. Something taunts the impotence of the Jedi to stop the horrors already unleashed; and two vessels drift into their space. One, is a standard Corelian cruiser, it's hull punctured and perforated with great black rocks; the other, asimilar, seems silent, almost dead; save for a single signal....Mayday....Mayday....Mayday....

OOC: Word up, yo! Coreworlds' in de house! Fo shizzle!

IC:
A grave disturbance in the Force is in the air. The Jedi felt it. The Shinobi grew apprehensive. The Alchemists were on alert. Even normal people had a bad feeling about this. The High Council convened.

"The time grows near." Alex said.

"Yes. We all could sense it." Elendil nodded.

"What can we do about this?" Rydo asked.

"For now, not much. It's too widespread to react with decisiveness." Alex closed his eyes.

"But we must do something! We cannot let the enemy continue this." Blayden spoke.

A tired sigh. "I know. I know. Even with the buildup in our military, I don't see..."

Another voice interrupted. "Councilors, I'm sorry, but we've recieved a distress message from deep space. A patrol is nearing it as we speak."

"Very well. Keep on that."

"Yes, Master."

-----

A three-ship patrol, a Strike cruiser and two gunships picked up the distress signal from the stricken corvette and now nears the ship...

The ships hung, silent now in the void; seemingly dead; till the one that had broadcasted seemed to howl in unholy anguish; an explosion rocking the starboard side; debris coursing into the abyss. It would appear that this ship has little life left. Yet now again, that ceaseless call; Mayday. Mayday.

The other; pierced with rocks, waxes and wanes in the dark gloom of space; unmoving, unresponsive; yet lights seem to flicker and dance in primal rhythm, as though something, or someone moves within....taunting glimpses of potential futures; lives and deaths hanging in the balance.

Could these be diamonds in the rough? Glimmers of hope amongst doom that dances from corner to corner? The jedi cannot truly know; but to leave potential victims, stranded in the abyss, is surely beyond their consciences ability to ignore.

Curiouser and curiouser, grows this tangled web of events...

The three ships soon loomed near the stricken ones. The strike cruiser sent out shuttles filled with marines and medics to rescue any survivors. Two shuttles for the rock-struck one and two shuttles for the one crying Mayday.

It was a strange event, somehow connected to the terrible atrocities played out before today. And the marines would soon find out what was in the ships as they latched onto the hulls and started cutting through with plasma torches...

Upon the first silent vessel; there was only death. No sign of the voice that had called Mayday through the void; only corpses, blood and flies. Perhaps a doomed survivor of Vensige; perhaps the contagin spread into the stars...But now; oddly, the bodies began to stir; the plague flies hissing about the rising, lumbering corpses; their teeth like needles, plunging towards their prey.

Something immense seemed to move in the vessel; swinging a great, rune-engraved scythe; cackling with malignant fury; A warp anomoly opened about the doomed vessel; and the Pestilant Pleasure emerged; opening fire with it's main weapons; as Lucian was teleported back to his vessel. A barrage of boarding pods and a wave of teleportation, brought Plague Marines, Zombies and Plague Bearers ever closer to the Coreworld vessels.

The other vessel, seemed to tear apart; the rocks unfolding, unfurling; Black Dragons; the proudest members of the flight; hides engraved with gold and platinum and ceramite and other materials; rearing up; lunging forth, as the ship tore under the strain of their birth. The black dragonflight; mouths crackling with warp-fire; unleashed hell against their foes; and the plan began to take shape...

Everything was going smoothly

Upon the first silent vessel; there was only death. No sign of the voice that had called Mayday through the void; only corpses, blood and flies. Perhaps a doomed survivor of Vensige; perhaps the contagin spread into the stars...But now; oddly, the bodies began to stir; the plague flies hissing about the rising, lumbering corpses; their teeth like needles, plunging towards their prey.
The surprised but disciplined marines opened fire upon the plague-ridden zombies and flies. They were protected in their suits, but for how long, no one knows. Scarlet bolts rang out from the corridors as they ordered retreats back into the shuttles. This ship needed cleansing, and badly.

Something immense seemed to move in the vessel; swinging a great, rune-engraved scythe; cackling with malignant fury; A warp anomoly opened about the doomed vessel; and the Pestilant Pleasure emerged; opening fire with it's main weapons; as Lucian was teleported back to his vessel. A barrage of boarding pods and a wave of teleportation, brought Plague Marines, Zombies and Plague Bearers ever closer to the Coreworld vessels.
The Strike Cruiser was slammed with gouts of enemy fire and returned fire with smaller but no less furious blasts of turbolaser energy at the enemies. A squadron of starfighters roared out of the small hangar bay to attack the boarding pods. It was clear that the Chronosians were up to something...

The other vessel, seemed to tear apart; the rocks unfolding, unfurling; Black Dragons; the proudest members of the flight; hides engraved with gold and platinum and ceramite and other materials; rearing up; lunging forth, as the ship tore under the strain of their birth. The black dragonflight; mouths crackling with warp-fire; unleashed hell against their foes; and the plan began to take shape...

Everything was going smoothly
...and that something soon unfolded like a terrible nightmare, only all too real. The two Coredian gunships charged forth with strafing runs upon the dragons before they could 'hatch' fully.

What was a rescue mission soon turned out to be a trap...and a deadly one it was indeed.

----

The Council heard the shouts of orders and cries of horror from the safety of the Chambers, and their heart sank at the news of Lucian's flagship in the area.

"It appears, then, that the Chronosians are preparing for war against us yet again..." Alex gravely said. "Alert the military to go to war status. Defensive measures for now."

"Very well." Master Emily Rydo, appointed as Defense Minister, nodded and headed out of the Chambers.

It was a dark day for the Imperial Republic...

Thus cleansing it would recieve; a barrage from the Pestilant Pleasure rocked the vessel; tearing gaping holes in it's hull; Marines teleported in and out, confusing arcs of fire hurtling through the corridors; bolter fire from every concievable angle; as Plague Marines of Nurgle saturated the vessel; then retreated; then once again attacked.

Fighters roared forth from the Flagship; plasma and warp weapons roaring, lances firing in madcap volleys as they plunged into the fray; one bursting into flame against the enemy onslaught; Boarding pods destroyed in arcs of shattering enemy fire. Hell was joined between the vessels; amongst the stars; a black and terrible battle taking place. What had been a rescue mission; was now near certain to become a Bloodbath.

The Dragons roared in agony as several were torn apart by the enemy gunships; while countless others dove through the void; riding the eddies of space, like the currents of wind; howling in black rage; as they unleashed another volley of coruscating warp-flame against their enemies.

Masaki... A voice, that damned familiar voice, echoed in his mind; echoed all about him. Calling to him with black charisma; tempting him with half-heard eldritch whispers. Masaki, come to me. You can end this war, in a single stroke. Your people need not die. Face me Masaki. Face me again; show me that your regal house still has promise....

Thus cleansing it would recieve; a barrage from the Pestilant Pleasure rocked the vessel; tearing gaping holes in it's hull; Marines teleported in and out, confusing arcs of fire hurtling through the corridors; bolter fire from every concievable angle; as Plague Marines of Nurgle saturated the vessel; then retreated; then once again attacked.
It was so tauntingly frustrating for the Marine Corps to fight the damned teleporters. Fading in and out of combat like wraiths, they were the true embodiment of the old adage of the ultimate defense being the one never to be attacked in the first place, and it hurt the valiant marines badly. It's one of those times when they sorely wished a Jedi was among them, but alas, they were busy with their own Sith and villain troubles.

It didn't help that the Pestilant Pleasure was sundering the ship with fire, incinerating unlucky marines.

Fighters roared forth from the Flagship; plasma and warp weapons roaring, lances firing in madcap volleys as they plunged into the fray; one bursting into flame against the enemy onslaught; Boarding pods destroyed in arcs of shattering enemy fire. Hell was joined between the vessels; amongst the stars; a black and terrible battle taking place. What had been a rescue mission; was now near certain to become a Bloodbath.
Against a flagship of the Chaos Imperium, a lone Strike Cruiser was certain to be destroyed. But before it does go out with a bang, it is certain to punish the flagship most dearly for the ambush. Magnificent turbolaser broadsides drilled into the flanks of the enemy while missiles and torpedoes streaked outwards in a dazzling display of death. The return fire smacked violently into the shields, flaring them brightly.

The fighters themselves danced the duel of death with the enemy ones; lasers and missiles turning the enemy into blossoms of fire. Despite the enemy outnumbering them, the fighters gave a good accounting of themselves all the same.

The Dragons roared in agony as several were torn apart by the enemy gunships; while countless others dove through the void; riding the eddies of space, like the currents of wind; howling in black rage; as they unleashed another volley of coruscating warp-flame against their enemies.
Wheeling and spinning, the gunships spewed a kaleidoscope of fire upon their draconic enemies. Their shields flickered as the warpflame licked them but the gunships held on, daring the dragons to even try and defeat them.

Masaki... A voice, that damned familiar voice, echoed in his mind; echoed all about him. Calling to him with black charisma; tempting him with half-heard eldritch whispers. Masaki, come to me. You can end this war, in a single stroke. Your people need not die. Face me Masaki. Face me again; show me that your regal house still has promise....
On a distant world, that damned voice still reached me.

Remiel... I clenched my fist. Pray to your foul gods that I do not reach you this time around. For when I do, I'll be the last one you'll face in this life...no matter what.

"Ryujin..." I spoke to the dragon on my shoulder. "It's time. Let's go."

The dragon nodded as I started walking to a personal ship and walked inside, starting it up. I soon flew up and out of the atmosphere and into space. Then I made the jump to hyperspace, preparing to use the transit time to formulate a plan to defeat Remiel.

Glimpses here and there; marines dodging through matter itself in flares of teleportation. A black shadow stalked amongst them; a juggernaut; swinging the glittering pestilant edge of his immense scythe; his bellowing laughter echoing about them; as an unlucky Plague Marine fell at his side; or was torn apart by the rampant explosions. Death was in the air; a miasma of corruption and destruction; a skillfull trap sprung by his brother; the Warmaster...Lucian chuckled; vengenance and pride meant so much to Remiel. He would finish what he started during the Coredian Campaign; he would fulfill his obligation to the Dark Lady...

The shields of the Pleasure flared in coronas of dazzling energy; explosions unfolding from the hull like flowers as it reeled from the Impact. Pausing, idling for a moment...It turned;unleashing it's entire weapons arrays against the Strike Cruiser; the void flaring in hatred and will to maim and destroy.

The Dragons dove and whirled about the ships; plunging with metal encrusted talons towards them; roaring in their cholic flaming breath; sacrificing themselves before the vessels.

The void opened; a gaping warp wound sundering reality, as the Storm of Tzeentch slid into the fray, greasy with the fabric of the Warp; it's immense cannons whirring to sing a requiem for the Coreworlders. A symphony of the Warp; an orchestra fine tuned to death itself; a thousand-fold choir of howling, maddened lusting daemons...

Remiel stood in the centre of countless circles; rising his hands to greet the night; the black-robed seraph that descended over the world; alight with the blazing gems of the void. Beneath these howling stars; the ground reddened with blood, flowing along the carving, engraved, paths of summoing circles; he began his chants; the sky contorting as he raised his Daemonblade; carving runes into the air; gaping wounds in the fabric of the materium appearing beneath his artful ministrations.

The world shuddered, kneeling before the awesome power of Chaos; atmosphere torn asunder by the warping influence of the Chaos magicks here unleashed; so many offered up in sacrifice. And all this to act as a Clarion's Call for Daniel Masaki. As this world turned and burned and yielded; Daniel would come, and they would have their war...Here; on a battlefield of Remiel's chosing...

Glimpses here and there; marines dodging through matter itself in flares of teleportation. A black shadow stalked amongst them; a juggernaut; swinging the glittering pestilant edge of his immense scythe; his bellowing laughter echoing about them; as an unlucky Plague Marine fell at his side; or was torn apart by the rampant explosions. Death was in the air; a miasma of corruption and destruction; a skillfull trap sprung by his brother; the Warmaster...Lucian chuckled; vengenance and pride meant so much to Remiel. He would finish what he started during the Coredian Campaign; he would fulfill his obligation to the Dark Lady...
The marines were fully decimated by the trap laden by Lucian. It surely sent a message for the Coredians...for the Masakis.

The shields of the Pleasure flared in coronas of dazzling energy; explosions unfolding from the hull like flowers as it reeled from the Impact. Pausing, idling for a moment...It turned;unleashing it's entire weapons arrays against the Strike Cruiser; the void flaring in hatred and will to maim and destroy.
The Strike Cruiser crumpled under the onslaught. Fire blossomed from holes in the hull as it could take no more fire and detonated in a bright explosion.

The Dragons dove and whirled about the ships; plunging with metal encrusted talons towards them; roaring in their cholic flaming breath; sacrificing themselves before the vessels.
There were too many dragons. Too many abominations of Chaos. One of the gunships stopped dead from a blast to the engines. The other simply ran, warming up for the jump to hyperspace.

The void opened; a gaping warp wound sundering reality, as the Storm of Tzeentch slid into the fray, greasy with the fabric of the Warp; it's immense cannons whirring to sing a requiem for the Coreworlders. A symphony of the Warp; an orchestra fine tuned to death itself; a thousand-fold choir of howling, maddened lusting daemons...

Remiel stood in the centre of countless circles; rising his hands to greet the night; the black-robed seraph that descended over the world; alight with the blazing gems of the void. Beneath these howling stars; the ground reddened with blood, flowing along the carving, engraved, paths of summoing circles; he began his chants; the sky contorting as he raised his Daemonblade; carving runes into the air; gaping wounds in the fabric of the materium appearing beneath his artful ministrations.

The world shuddered, kneeling before the awesome power of Chaos; atmosphere torn asunder by the warping influence of the Chaos magicks here unleashed; so many offered up in sacrifice. And all this to act as a Clarion's Call for Daniel Masaki. As this world turned and burned and yielded; Daniel would come, and they would have their war...Here; on a battlefield of Remiel's chosing...
The Chaos-ridden world shone like a black beacon in the Force. Those tuned to the life energy field knew that horror awaited all who neared the world. It was not bravery that would draw me to the world. It was determination. To end the curse that is Remiel. To finish what I have started back on earthside Coredia.

That is why I went to the R&D department of Washu-chan Incorporated and picked up an experimental weapon. It was about the size of a sniper rifle, but has several different settings.

The first setting was a super-intense purple beam of energy known as a positron laser. It's intense enough that lightsabers have a hard time deflecting it, so it would be good as a Sith-killer. It'll also double as an armor-piercing blaster. Good for that armor of the Chaos Space Marines. The barrel is cylinder shaped.

The second setting was a yellow disrupter beam. It is capable of breaking down matter to its component atoms. Chalk that up to the alchemists. The barrel is a point.

The third setting blasts out a ball of holy-based energy. Give thanks to the dragon mages for that one. The barrel is as large as a grenade launcher's.

The fourth and most dangerous setting is a hyperspace rift shot. When it connects with solid matter, it'll open a rift into hyperspace, acting somewhat like a black hole, only bright. Then when enough matter is sucked in, it blows up like a nuke. The barrel is between the second and third settings in size. I'd use that as a last resort.

Four new ways to kill Remiel and his posse of insane Chaos minions. I was taking no chances this time, as I gathered the power packs and used a jutsu to create a dimensional pocket to hold the rifle and packs. Reduces the weight I have to carry in battle.

Did I mention the rifle scope is capable of orbit-to-surface sniper shots if I wanted to? Sure, I'll need to use Galactic Positioning Systems and other ships' sensors, but it's capable of such.

Additional weapons I included in said pocket, straight from the military's Ft. Krayt armory: several different kinds of explosives, from grenades to detonators. Assault blasters. Proton rocket launcher and rounds. Hypersonic gauss rifle. In short, I'm a one-man army. When dealing with Chaos, there's no such thing as overkill, after all.

Now, to deal with the Chaos hordes themselves, I handpicked units that were battle-hardened against the foul hordes, so that they're capable of steeling themselves and not running even when demons are near. Those troops will hold off the Chaos army on the surface of the world as I make my way to Remiel himself.

The armor units was different too. Gone were the old AT-ATs and AT-STs, at least for the frontlines. Now we have more bestial armor units. I smirked. Wouldn't Chronosia be surprised when I unleash the brand spanking new division to field-test! Of course, certain units will have to be left home to do further testing on (OOC: Godulan-made ones. It's just Chronosia vs Coreworlds).

It took three days to get everything ready and no amount of red tape, classified documents and arrests deterred the fact to the public that something was up. All they knew that we were going to fight Chronosia once more, but the exact specifications was Top Secret classified. To allay the networks, we compromised by placing a few embedded reporters and crew aboard the ships, but not in the Corps. Just too damned dangerous. They grumbled, but we were adamant that all recordings will be prescreened by the brass before sending them to the news networks. Especially as I'm still not yet ready to openly reveal my triumphant return. That'll occur when Remiel is dead.

But finally, we were ready. As I kissed Katrina good bye under a hidden canopy, I went over the basic plan. Ryujin will command the dragon forces to deal with the Chaos black dragons. I will be part of the ground forces after escorting them to the surface in my X-wing. And of course, the space fleet (21 ships) will do their job.

I soon boarded the ESD Megalodon under the guise of a Henge as an older-than-myself commander and headed straight to the bridge. Upon entrance, I deliberately put myself under Commodore Samantha Lymann's command to keep up with my public charade.

Then the fleet flew out of orbit, formed up and made the jump to hyperspace.

Remiel's fingers turned the pages of the book, slowly examining the diagrams; letting his hands caress the pages; to feel their power. About him; Guardsmen and Coredians waited and watched; enrapt by the dancing chaos in the skies; brands adorned the flesh of the Coredians; the victims of the wiles of Chaos; their blank eyes testament to the fell powers that had touched the worlds in the wake of the Warmaster. Their loyalty enforced by insidious powers beyond the ken of mere mortals.

He let his laughter trickle forth; gazing forth as his Marines moved to form rough protective grids about him; weapons readied; watching their masters work above the surface of the planet; the dancing wounds in reality; the hissing crackle of the Immaterium above; energy flowing like ethereal fingers. Eldritch whispers upon the chill wind.

"Yes..." He sighed "Yes; come to me...Feed me with your power. Let me drink of your energy, Lord Slaanesh! Let me taste your gifts! Embrace me; your servant; and grant me all I wish!"

He speaks truly...His whispers call the Gods!

Nonsense; his power is not of our level...he plays with things he has no understanding of...Something comes...I sense it

Yes....If the boy proves true; we shall know our freedom....

The Daemonhosts materialised; existence rippling around them, while they observed the ritual. They were servants; powerful and dark, yes; but slaves to Remiel's power...Now they smelt the stench of change on the wind.

"Ten minutes to reversion." The computer chimed.

"Go to battlestations." The Commodore ordered. Suddenly, klaxons sounded and red alert lights spun as the once placid crew rushed about to their battlestations.

I myself slipped from the bridge and headed down to the hangar bay. It was as busy as ever with crew old and young getting ready to fight against the Chaos hordes. Ships were fueled, ammo was broken out, every person issued a blaster for those times when breaching pods attack the ship. I prepped my fighter for the big fight and Rocky was eager to banish some Chaos too.

And then...

In a crackle of dazzling energy, twenty one different ships in all shapes and sizes erupted from hyperspace and immediately maneuvered into a wall formation and started firing massive blasts of energy and projectiles at the enemy. Fighters, bombers and dragons flew out of various craft to prepare for battle. I was one of the first ones out.

The battle has begun!

I look to the skies; watching them come; these paltry defenders of light; these warriors of a fallen Empire. Where are the Coreworlds that once stood united against the Sith? Shattered, Broken, by the black actions of the Traitor, whose name I shall not speak here. Let him come; let him hate and fear and fall; let he and all his armies come and perish on this rock...

I can wait; I can bide my time. I hear the thunderous roar of defence cannons; I hear the pounding impact of ship against ship; humanity clashing amongst the stars; the Transcendant Humanity is long gone; but now the others go to follow; to lead them from this place...My summonings; Severino's runes; all the glorious war that has unfolded in the last few days; is but a taste of our power....

I wait now; watching; feeling the hiss of Worldrender in my hand; tasting the acrid stench of the rotting air; every single actions giving me the uttermost pleasure; the infinite joys of burning the Universe to cinders; and snorting up the ashes. I will taste the blood and flesh of Daniel Masaki; I will defile his corpse; I shall crush every living thing that he calls kin; kill all that he comes ally. He shall simply be the first...

"Move, Servants" Hissing at the Daemonhosts; the mighty Twin Princes; bound and in servitude; "The Hour grows late; your power is needed to welcome our guests..."

As the Star Destroyers engaged the enemy ships, the real battle takes place on the planet itself. Dozens of assault and landing craft headed to the broken, warped surface of the Chaos-damned planet, escorted by numerous fighters and LAAT gunships.

As soldiers of the Marine Corps begin to assault the enemy, they began deploying our newest weapons: Scorpio Walkers. Designed to be nothing less than the replacements to the lumbering AT-ATs, the main feature of the Scorpios are the beamlaser cannons on the tips of the tails. Larger than LAAT cannons but smaller yet more nimble than the SPHA-T lasers, the beamlasers have a 'slicer' mode, where it's a continuous beam like a lightsaber or lascannon, except it goes on for a good while. Useful to sweep through enemy ranks like scythes. The other mode is the more powerful blaster mode, which is just like a heavy turbolaser. In closer combat, the tail can strike and pierce enemies with it's large monomolecular vibroblade.

Their bodies were low-slung to protect the undersides and their six legs were capable of climbing steep hills. The 'head' was crewed by two men, one to drive, the other to shoot the enemy.

Other features include antipersonnel blaster cannons built in the pincers, which incidently can also snip enemies in close range. Laser cannons are placed on the sides to protect the flanks. All in all, it was a very deadly weapon. And it was field-tested today. We do have AT-TEs fighting with the Scorpios as it's still a useful weapon.

Then there were smaller Arachnid walkers with laser cannons and missile launchers, ready to rumble. These flanked the larger Scorpios and TEs just as the AT-ST once did for the AT-AT to protect them and the infantry.

Between the spiders and the scorpions in size were the Scarab APCs. Each one capable of carrying thirty men, the scarabs had an extremely strong shell to protect the men from lasers or explosions. The techies said it could even protect them from a nuclear explosion, but the Marines take that with a grain of salt. A pair of blaster cannons and rear laser cannons compliment the weaponry.

As the invasion of Coredian insect mecha commences, one lone fighter streaks away from the main battle, ignoring calls to get back into formation. A temple or something looms in the distance. I could sense the foul evil that is Remiel there.

"Okay, Rocky. Take control of the fighter as planned." I ordered as I lowered a pair of goggles to protect my eyes. As soon as I lost control of the fighter to my astromech, I yanked the Eject lever, popped out of the cockpit performed a free-fall for several thousand feet. The fighter flew back out into space for the Megalodon as I descended through the clouds. Then a silver streak flew right besides me, matched speed and I grabbed onto Ryujin.

"How's that for a dramatic entrance?" I yelled, grinning madly.

"Oh, I'll give it an 8." Ryujin chuckled.

"Only an eight?"

"Yes."

"Fine. You do it sometime and see how much you get." I grumbled.

"I sure will." Ryujin grinned.

We flew onwards towards the Chaos temple. The stakes were high. This time, there will be no more running. No more playing around. Just all-out fighting against the Warmaster of Chaos, Remiel de Drakan.

Reality tore and bent, yielding to my unleashed desire; something draws near; a silver whisper upon the wind; a silver arrow against the burning sky. I see, in the distance; the advancing Coredians. But they will arrive too late; too late for Remiel De Drakan to care about them...I chuckle at the thought; these fools who think they can stand against the Gods; for nothing truly can. Nothing is eternal, save the realm of Chaos itself...

I hear their cries; men torn apart by these arachnid monstrosities; men sheared in twain by blasts of energy; the earth itself rent in battle. I feel the pleasure and pain of every death; every particle of the planet vibrating in concert with the limitless urges of my mind...I see men tearing at the enemy; I taste the acrid after-taste of explosions; I see the blazing bodies; and their howling souls. I feel it all.

"Masaki...." My voice a mere whisper of the wind; as I draw the blazing blade of Worldrender; hear it whisper and tease with wants and yearnings; you will feed soon, pet; soon....

[Star Wars: Episode III Opening Theme plays]

As I neared the lair of the Warmaster, my senses became hyperactive. I could feel the stench of evil all over the place. Of Sin. Of Chaos. The war was a backdrop to the real fight. That of Light verses Dark. That of Order verses Chaos. And I was nearing the eye of the storm of Chaos.

Moments pass. The rolling thunder of battle was still heard. The lightning flashes of bombs and energy weapons dueled with the ones made by the storm. And almost before I knew it, the Silver Dragon I rode swooped down and landed lightly near the Temple of Chaos.

"This is as far as I go." Ryujin growled. "May the Force be with you."

I hopped down to the ground. "And with you, my friend."

The Dragon flew off, leaving me to face the Warmaster. Just the way I want it. I drew my rifle and walked straight into the valley of death...

And the boy would fear no evil; not even when he saw it. Determination, I have to say; zeal and faith and purity and all the things which light upholds. Nonsense, of course. I let him come; undefended; standing, reading aloud; the words making the very curtain of reality tremble and rustle. Nothing could stop the undiluted power of Chaos now pouring forth. I let the book slip back into my pocket; and turned, watching his advance, stepping forward softly.

"So, we meet again, Masaki. Can I call you Daniel?" I chuckled softly and Worldrender seemed to cackle; shaking in my grasp. "Do you like what I've done? The tapestry weaved of Coredian lives....The plan slowly taking form? It's quite simply....Beautiful. I have seen your people bastardised and raped; prostituted on their knees before the thrones of the obscene Gods. I have seen the End Masaki; and this is but the beginning. The augurs speak true; only one shall leave this place; and they shall bring about the end of days..."

"If this be the end of days, then so be it." I raised my rifle, switching to the Holy Blaster for maximum effect. "Which one lives? Which one dies? Let us decide..."

I pulled the trigger. A white ball of energy, pure as heaven itself, launched out of the barrel straight for the Warmaster...

Raising my hand, conjuring forth a blast of warp energy as I dodges to the side; armor bubbling and hissing as the holy blast sears my shoulder; drawing a sigh and a chuckle from exhuberant lips. "A fine start, Master Masaki...A Fine fine start!" I raise the stormbolter, opening fire as I advance; cackling; the Runeblade hungering in my grip; crying for blood and souls...I shall not dissapoint.

"Come on then, little man, let us see your true virtues!"

I ducked and rolled to dodge the energies and bolter shells, moving to cover; yet I felt pain as the warp energy had raked my arm. Reaching into the Force, I timed it, and popped out to fire again. The holy energy was quite effective. If I get out of this, I shall make a mental note to mass-produce it for future fights with Chronosia.

I chuckle, looking to my shoulder; the armor merely seared; flesh intact, if not warmed and excited by the holy flame; if not tease and licked by fire..."Try again Masaki! Try harder!" A melta bomb is thrown forth; a howl; an explosion; a roaring deluge of stormbolter rounds; as I cackle in insane glee. "Come on child! Do not dissapoint me!" Ducking his assaults; feeling the sting at my right side, I grin.

I lunge forth, sliding, focussing all my weight towards his cover; firing as I lash out with the mighty, crackling edge of Worldrender. Roaring in black triumph; in unholy lust for battle, I scream his name; again and again; as I lash out; once, twice, three times

Blood trickles out from scrapes recieved as I jumped away from the bomb, thrown back by the force of the explosion. Bolter shells made contact with rock, blowing up cover, showering me in splinters. A second explosion of rock, this time from Worldrender, slashes through the makeshift cover, narrowly missing flesh.

I focus. I disappear before Worldrender slashes again to finish the job. I reappear behind Remiel, firing two consecutive blasts at his back...

Stunned, alive with sensation and savagery, I grunt as the blasts shake my body; ceramite smoking, bubbling and blazing, as I whirl about; all aflame. Worldrender slames to the side of Masaki's head, a lucky miss; vaporising a column, as I scream in obscene prayer to Slaanesh; lashing out towards the Jedi's gun hand; Stormbolter blazing as I aim towards his torso; my hatred focussed, my bloodlust honed...

This man will die...

Judging from the enraged bloodlust I could sense, I knew I hurt the Warmaster, but not enough...

Not nearly enough...

I put up powerful shields to deflect the stormbolter shells from vitals, but they still tear through to graze my body, drawing blood; that lifegiving liquid oozes from wounds. I aim the rifle once more, this time for the Stormbolter; the greater threat. I shoot...

He misses; grazing my arm, blood spurting forth in pools of seething life; alive with sensation; pregnant with pain. I grunt, lashing out again, Worldrender in a howling arc; Stormbolter crackling in the grasp of a powerclaw; it's shells pouring forth in a deluge of pain and agony; drawing gasps from me; drawing blood from his flesh, one can only hope...

I dodge Worldrender again. The stormbolter sheds a little more blood each time they connect. I aim for the chest, fire again. Then I draw my lightsaber, shifting the rifle to one hand. I spit blood and flashed that damned smirk. "I've only just begun..."

"As have I!" I slash forth; eager to test Worldrender against the lightsabre he now wields; first I lunge towards his rifle hand; slashing for it with barely containted contempt; vengeful wrath staining my countenance as I attack. I'll disarm him; and then; then the true confrontation can begin! Tossing aside my bolter; ready to fight him; man to man; with honor and steel.

Blood and sweat pour across my eyes, I spit at him, bloodied saliva alighting on his finery; my eyes alive; electric with hate as I strike forth; again and again.

The rifle is broken. No matter, for I can always get another when I survive this. I lash out with my blade; the color of life. Life verses death. The metaphor of the ages. Strike, slash, thrust. All my skill is brought into play...

Parry, block, attack; rend, tear, cleave, consume. I feel my own tormented thoughts merging with that of the Daemonic weapon I now hold; slashing out again and again at Daniel Masaki; sparks hissing from the primal contact of our weapons; the screech of lightsabre against Daemonblade. I feel him nick me; it matters not....

I lash out; again and again; my armor alive with sigils; dripping decadant corruption. I loom like a terrible shadow over my prey; I am Warmaster! Primarch of the Imperium! Watch how he cowers; how he shall beg before the end!

I growl, alive with rage and hate and pulsing with power and pain; an effigy of palpable anger and venom; an idol of corrupt charisma and black lust. It is as it has always been; Order against Chaos; Light against the Darkness, Sanity striving against Madness; but in the end, all fall to their blacker half; all yield to the limitless darknesses of mortal souls.

Clash after clash we fight. Strength verses speed. Warmaster against Knight. I duck, dodge, parry, riposte. I hiss in pain as Worldrender tastes flesh of the upper arm, weakening me bit by bit with wounds. I counter, channeling deadly lightning through my blade, and strike back, seeking openings...

Lightning dances across my armor; searing my flesh, bringing those delightful cries from my lips; those moans of ecstatic agony. I grin, thrusting the blade towards him; the clash of energy; howling daemon power and crackling force-energy "You two-bit Psyker!" I snarl; attacking again; each gash feeding me his life; his blood. "I taste your fear; your pain..."

"It pleases me.." And again I attack; parry, thrust, assault; destroy...I will not let him win; I will show him the merits of the house De Drakan; even as my strength waxes and wanes...Chaos will empower me; Chaos will bring me glory

Electricity crackles against demonic power. Again and again each of us tries to kill the other. I knew, however, that Remiel will outlast and defeat me if this goes on too long. I must end this...NOW!

I feint for the head...

And I dodged to the left; spinning in a violent lashing blow; Worldrender slamming into the Jedi's side; it's blade tasting flesh, it's hungering resident tasting his soul; and I felt it; saw it. I felt his memories rush through me; of worlds beyond death; of realities beyond these. I saw plans and past exploits; I saw his son, his successor. And then I saw it.

In a blazing moment all became clear; I saw Jurai; I saw the stars that orbed it; I saw Tenetia aflame in ancient battle...Our minds met. I felt it; felt him; I let him see Jurai in flames; Bastion in ashes; scoured clean by warpflame; I let my anger poison his dieing body; I let my triumphant senses run amok. I was a God; I was the executor of the grandest atrocity the universe would ever know; as the Rebellion died in a single blow of flame and shadow and outrage. Yes! By the Gods, yes! I would have my victory!

And I became lost in it; the heady scent of my own dominance; the righteous musk of my own power...I was so assured of victory; so certain of triumph...

I howled in pain as Worldrender struck my side. Memories suddenly flooded my mind. Of my family. My son. All were open to Remiel's foul mind. Then...the one memory I knew he was looking for appeared. Jurai...

No...NO!

I saw what he planned to do with it. I saw the world burn and all the remnant of Coreworlds with it. I saw the galaxy sink deeper into darkness than ever before. Chaos ruled a distant future with no hope in sight...and the light was extinguished forever...

"NO!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. The lightning around my blade crackled brightly with defiance, unwilling to accept defeat. With the last of my strength, with all my power, I drove the thunder-enhanced lightsaber through the armor, through the flesh of my foe. Drove it as far inside as I could.

I struck true...

And then the glorious images of triumphant rule of a dead future faded; ripped asunder by the wave of raw agony that swept my form; I shuddered; Worldrender dropping from my hands. I grasped with bloodied fingers for the tome; and it too fell to the side, before a hand clasped around something material. I slammed the dagger forth; dripping it's warp borne poison; hissing with black putresence as I hissed; blood oozing from my lips; pouring in a deluge across my chin. "You...Shall be denied all sensation; denied the Prince of Chaos' gifts...Masaki...." I spat, blood and spit marring his face, as I slumped down, blood gushing from the mortal wound; that damnable wretches weapon....So deep...

"Is this how I meet my end? Horus to your Emperor? Is this it...No....I will not, let you...Cannot" And then I faded; blackness took me; a warmth, a peace...

And Remiel De Drakan, Lord of the Inquisition; Warmaster of the Imperium; Scion of Chaos, Breathed his last.

It was done. It was over. As the poison seeps into my wounds, dulling the pain and other sensations, I withdraw the blade. Then I move out of the broken temple, stumbling, clutching a poison-filled wound, leaving Remiel to the annals of the dead. Then I remember the book and the sword. Summoning the Force, I send them floating to my side.

"Worldrender..." I chuckle darkly as I examined the blade, as it growled angrily at being forced away from its old master. "A fine name for a demonic blade. Unfortunately, you will no longer taste flesh and blood. Your days are over."

I send them both into a dimensional pocket and finally leave the damned place.

I stumbled out of the temple. The distant army seems to have concluded the battle. I spotted a silver streak in the sky and sent off a mental message of triumph. Then I suddenly felt weak. The wounds recieved during battle, compounded by the arcane toxin that I recieved from Remiel's dying blow, took its toll on my body and I fell unconscious into a deep healing trance.

----

Ryujin's bellow of triumph reached the ears of the Marine Corps as he returned to the corps' medical ship Savior with the young Master. Doctors hooked him up to IVs and ordered the Megalodon to prepare to recieve wounded. Bacta patches were placed on the wounds and soon, the ship took off with all the wounded. The military packed up their stuff, confident in their victory, and then the remaining fleet of fourteen ships prepared to make the jump to hyperspace. Triumph over the Warmaster was only the first victory over Chronosia. There will have to be more...