- Objectionable Content Warnings:
Just as a warning to others the following story contains;
GV - Descriptions of death, gore and violence.
This story follows directly after 'Playthings', which you can read by following the link. If you wish to leave a comment or feedback on the story, feel free to drop a message or write in the thread below!
DEATHWATCH
Toxic green light unfolded and formed a fiery portal in the sky above Saederych. The rift widened like an opening mouth with lips of verdant flame, its spiralling throat forming an interdimensional gateway through which it disgorged six lightning-fast skimmers.
Speeding towards the world’s surface on shrieking engines, the procession of drukhari raiders swept into the wide streets of Saederych’s ruined cityscape, their anti-gravity emitters thrumming loudly when they neared solid ground. The time-lost ruins of the ancient aeldari metropolis spread out before them like the ossified remains of a dead god: the streets were its arteries, the spires its bones, all half-buried in the twisted tangles of alien flora.
Left-hand holding tightly to a chain attached to his raider’s aethersail, Krethaq perched one foot against the edge of the skimmer and hung gracefully from the side, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him. Arzurdar leant precariously on the railing behind his Archon, the former-wych’s exceptional balance allowing him to daringly lean off the edge of the barge without fear of falling. A thrill-seeking smirk was drawn tightly across the Dracon’s lips. The rest of the hunting party consisted of ten kabalites and two sslyth; for once, the Archon was without his Incubi, due to them being otherwise occupied boarding an Imperium vessel.
Krethaq scanned the overgrown districts and plazas, looking for any signs of either the ambushed Ynnari scouts or their Astartes attackers. Sneering underneath his horned helm, the Archon gave clear orders via the com-links with his Sybarites.
“Spread out, locate our quarry and surround it. Give them no hope of escape.” “As you command.”The anti-gravity skiffs strafed away from one another. With an abrupt turn of their aethersails, they spun with break-neck speed and rushed into separate streets of towering wraithbone architecture. Zetria, the steerswoman of Krethaq’s barge, guided them around a shattered dome and into a concourse lined with long-collapsed statues, the marble faces of ancient aeldari staring up at them through a wrapping of flowering vines.
“Care for a wager, my Archon?” Arzurdar asked with roguish glee, teasing the edge of his wych knife with his armoured thumb.
Krethaq turned his head, the searing slits of his helm focused on Arzurdar.
“And what wager would that be?” he asked shortly.
“That I will be the first one to reach their leader. And that I will be the one who kills him.” “Oh you insufferable little thing. I have killed alien abominations, daemonic heralds and rival Archons. And you?” Krethaq tilted his horned head in mock-sympathy.
“Ur-Ghuls and other scraps the Succubi left you in the arenas. But by all means, try and prove yourself to me.”“So I take it that’s a ‘yes’ to my wager?” Arzurdar’s sharp-toothed smirk returned. Even when looking away, Krethaq knew it was there, pulled tauntingly over his lover’s lips. He concluded to have Arzurdar whipped once they returned to the Vilsqarn.
“You truly are—Zetria, sharp right!”Zetria pushed on the repulsor keelblade and spun the raider into a dramatic turn. A sudden hail of thundering bolter rounds tore through the air, fired from a unit of Deathwatch marines taking cover at a nearby terrace, bloodied with the bodies of slain Ynnari rangers. Leading the attack was a battle-brother wielding a huge bolter weapon, its muzzle aflame as it released a constant barrage at the racing skiff, its ugly roar deafening the very air itself. Though Zetria’s deft maneuvering evaded the worst of their fire, explosive rounds battered against the raider’s light-armoured frame and tore brutally through one of the kabalites, their dark-tinged blood spattering Krethaq’s matching coloured armour.
Freshly sprayed with gore, Krethaq lofted his djin blade and pointed towards the dark-armoured Astartes below.
“Pin them down, kabalites. Zetria, bring us directly to them.” Answering his Archon’s command, the drukhari manning the prow-mounted Dark Lance took aim, slid his hand over the activation glyphs and launched an eye-searing beam of darklight at the Deathwatch. It sliced through their wraithborne cover with a shower of black particles, though failed to strike the fast-moving Astartes as they charged between guarded positions, chased by splinter rifle fire where they ran. Under cover of the ongoing skirmish, an assault marine launched from a nearby star-tower, crashing his boots above the raider’s engine and levelling his bolt pistol at its pilot.
“Vile xenos.” A single hellfire bolt struck Zetria square in the back, blood bursting from her chest as acid flooded the steerswoman’s body. Smoke spat from the rivets of her armour as she choked, falling onto the keelblade and setting the raider off-course. Taking advantage of the sudden spiralling that threw the drukhari off-balance, the assault marine aimed his bolter at the raider’s engine and fired twice, destabilizing its jet-turbines with a burst of flame.
Activating the twin turbines of his jump pack, the assault marine kicked off the burning barge to make his escape. With a sharp crack, Arzurdar’s agoniser whip wrapped around the assault marine’s ankle, tethering him to the crashing raider.
Hurtling down to the street below, the surviving drukhari leapt from the raider just before it crashed, landing with feline grace. The burning barge shattered on impact against a weeping statue of Isha, the aethersail piercing her torso as the skiff’s wreckage showered the terrace below. Arzurdar and the assault marine were the last to disembark, sent crashing through the broken wall of a nearby ruin as the pair locked into deadly close-quarters combat.
Two more kabalites were gunned down before they could find cover, their speed anticipated by the veteran xenos-hunters and thus accounted for as their lithe bodies were torn open. Bolter fire thundered through the air around Krethaq, shattering the psycho-plastic structures of the lost aeldari city and showering the air with white splinters. Quick as a daggersnake, Krethaq dashed forward and leapt against a wraithbone wall, propelling himself forward with a swift kick towards the nearest shooter; a Deathwatch veteran with a royal blue pauldron and a green wreath upon his helmed head. The black-armoured marine levelled his bolter towards Krethaq and fired.
Bolter rounds burst against the Archon’s shadow field, the nisariel crystal embedded upon his collar gleaming as a shroud of umbral darkness guarded its wearer, swallowing the thick shells like a black hole quenching a sun. The Archon was untouched as he lunged through the air towards the Deathwatch marine and swung his djin blade in a deadly arc. The sword sliced through both ceramite armour and neck with unnatural ease, decapitating the Astartes and earning a rapturous cry from Krethaq’s sentient sword as the blade fed on fresh blood.
Sliding to a halt on the balls of his feet, the Archon smirked with cruel delight. He reached out with his free hand and coaxed the marine’s soul from his fallen body, a wraithlike stream of blue-white light siphoned into the Archon as he greedily devoured his victim’s essence.
“Jophel!” The devastator marine barked the name of his fallen battle-brother, drawing Krethaq’s eye, the slight hint of despair in the abomination’s voice enough to make him grin. The Archon recognised the sigil on the mon’keigh’s red pauldron, the winged blood-drop worn by the most feral of the Imperium’s soldiers. With the click of a newly loaded ammo belt, the marine unleashed the fury of his heavy bolter upon the Archon.
“Be purged, alien scum!”Ending his feeding early, Krethaq ducked low and dashed with unnatural speed for the marine. He swerved and dodged much of the in-coming heavy bolter fire, trusting his shadow field to endure the rest so he might reach his target. But as the heavy bolter rounds burst against the wrapping of dark energy around him, the nisariel crystal upon his chest flickered. Then dimmed. His shield fell apart like smoke against wind, exposing the Archon.
One bolt struck his armoured chest, but his ghostplate endured. The second struck his leg and the ghostplate cracked, a spray of blood spurting from his thigh. Krethaq stumbled and leapt out of the firing line, taking sanctuary behind the broken hand of a once-towering statue.
“Wretched thing.” Krethaq hissed at his inert nisariel crystal. Blood pooled beneath his pointed boots, rolling from his wounded thigh. A neuro-sensitive device within his armour began pumping stimulants into his injured leg, strengthening its torn muscle.
The raging bolter rounds quickly destroyed Krethaq’s defensive position, while providing cover for the third Deathwatch marine as he rushed for the Archon on thundering strides, his very steps cracking sections of the fauna-riddled floor. Wielding a thunder hammer and wearing a white pauldron marked with a black cross, he shouted praise to his Corpse Emperor while swinging for his target. Krethaq leapt back, evading the earth-shattering blow and dancing aside from a hail of heavy bolter fire. Hefting up his hammer once more, the mon’keigh smashed through the rubble and charged again.
Suddenly, a scream so powerful that it created psychic shockwaves filled the courtyard. Ripples of eldritch power rolled from their source, colliding with the charging Deathwatch marine. The lenses of his helm shattered, eyes bleeding and teeth breaking as he was hurled several meters back through the air. Nearby, the discordic shriek stunned the other Astartes, giving the surviving kabalites a chance to return fire.
Oddly unaffected by the banshee wail, Krethaq looked up towards its source. With a blur of many colours, Shadowseer Yl’saeth flipped from a high ledge and landed beside the Archon, soundless but for the gentle chime of his many charms. He twirled his miststave effortlessly between his fingers, his featureless mask gleaming with ever-swirling patterns of light.
“Archon Ivensyr.”“Shadowseer Yl’saeth. What a lovely song.”“My thanks. I will share with you my entire aria someday.”In unison, both Archon and Shadowseer closed in on their chosen targets.
Conjuring thin blades of light from the air itself, Yl’saeth flung them one-by-one for the hammer-wielding Astartes. The illusions were harmless to the body but fooled the mind and inflicted grievous psychosomatic wounds, causing the bloody-mouthed mon’keigh to snarl in agony as he swung his hammer for the swift Shadowseer.
Meanwhile, Krethaq maneuvered for the devastator marine. Anticipating the Archon’s imminent attack, he hefted up his heavy bolter and switched to the flamer mounted beneath it. A torrent of roaring fire rushed for Krethaq who leapt high enough to evade most of the blazing chemicals, his leg-armour singed and sash incinerated. He fell with a decisive sweep of his djin blade, hacking through the muzzle of the heavy bolter. The marine dropped his broken weapon and grasped for the chainsword resting on his hip, its bladed teeth whirring to life as it met Krethaq’s arcane sword in an urgent parry. The two weapons locked.
“I killed hundreds of your wretched kind in Shadowblight, alien. You’ll die just the same.”The Archon laughed in answer, the eye-lenses of his helm shining wickedly.
Using his superior strength, the marine thrust their weapons upwards and grasped his free hand for the Archon’s arm, hurling him against a nearby slab of wraithbone with a painful collision. He went in with a finishing blow of his chainsword, though Krethaq slipped aside with liquid speed and stabbed his djin blade into the marine’s reinforced ribcage, twisting and ripping it free with a torrent of blood. The Astartes smashed his elbow into Krethaq’s head in brutal retaliation, snapping two of the horns from his helmet and knocking him aside.
The Deathwatch marine did not hesitate, following with another swing of his chainsword. But as Krethaq spun to face him, the Archon hurled a smooth silver sphere at his attacker. Before the strike could land, the orb detonated into a cloud of writhing, slashing wires that engulfed the Astartes entirely. The one-thousand lashes of the Animus Vitae twisted and tightened as a constricting web, sawing through armour and flesh alike and feeding off the pain that it caused, channeling that miasma of suffering into the air as sweet purple smoke.
Slightly dizzied by the strike to the head, Krethaq took a moment to gather himself and breath in the tortured aroma with satisfaction. Then, taking his djin blade in a two-handed grip, he balanced a pointed boot on the fallen marine’s neck and brought his sword down through his heart. Then in quick succession, through the other.
Across the courtyard, Yl’saeth landed a finishing blow upon his combatant’s helmed head, miststave channeling a shockwave of psychic energy through the Astartes skull that caused it to burst. Not a single splatter of crimson sullied Yl’saeth’s form as he redirected the blood to paint the ground instead, doing so with an artistic flourish.
Gore drooling from his blade’s edge, Krethaq surveyed the ongoing battle with the Deathwatch; three dead, one unaccounted for and one still locked in battle with his kabalites. He then paid closer heed to the bodies of Ynnari scouts crumpled nearby, laying before a ten-meter tall doorway, its frame shattered by bolter-fire. Leaving behind the fountain of pain flowing from his Animus Vitae, Krethaq strode past the aeldari dead and into the sprawling structure ahead.
Light entered the hall via a vast fissure that opened the domed roof to Saederych’s pink sky, illuminating a large figure standing near its centre; heavy-armoured and wearing the lightning bolt of the White Scars on his pauldron. He was without a helmet, his scarred face locked in a scowl and left-eye glowing red with a bionic replacement. His silver power sword dripped with the blood of slain aeldari, holding one by the purple ponytail of her decapitated head, two more strung to his belt by their hair.
Krethaq quickly recognised the head as Ranger Aviel, twisting his lips with disgust. His eyes shifted focused to the repository of ancient aeldari relics piled behind the Deathwatch marine, recognising the bait for what it was.
“The leader of this rabble, I assume?” Krethaq drawled, sullying his throat with Low Gothic.
“Watch-Captain Qalchar,” he answered curtly,
“and you have killed my battle-brothers. Your head is long overdue its place on a spike at our Watch Fortress.”“Are you referring to Haldus, or the ones I just killed?” the Archon asked glibly. He drew his huskblade from its scabbard, wielding both his cursed swords at once.
“Oh dear. It seems I am losing count of the amount of beasts I’ve sla—”Assault cannons blast apart the already broken roof, showering the hall with smoke and psycho-plastic splinters. Krethaq hopped back and avoided a shard of falling debris, staring warily up at the source of the destruction. With impressive speed and maneuverability, a Corvus Blackstar lowered through the sundered roof and continued firing; not at the Archon, but at the aeldari artefacts. Weaponry, relics, webway maps and more were barraged with cannon-fire and explosive missiles, obliterating them utterly in a shower of flame and smoke. The chain of explosions caused Krethaq’s cloak to billow behind him, eyes wide and sharp fangs clenched with outrage at the destruction of the ancient aeldari heirlooms.
Rather than take his chances and fight the alien warlord, the Watch-Captain climbed up onto the front-mounted doors of the aircraft that lowered to accept him.
“Your time will soon follow, xenos.” He raised his blade to point it at the crimson Archon.
“And it will be by my blade.” With that assurance given, the doors slid shut with a whining of pistons.
Krethaq considered giving chase onto the aircraft, though that temptation vanished when its autocannons turned their barrage towards him. Sneering in disdain, the Archon leapt back and fled from the building as wraithbone sundered apart behind him, one shell catching his arm and nearly tearing it from its joint with its flesh-rending impact. Krethaq yelled in unenjoyable pain, dropping his huskblade as it hit the floor and skid across bloody stone.
On vectored engines mounted beneath its dark wings, the Corvus Blackstar withdrew via the sundered roof and departed the ruins of Saederych with its mission complete; the aeldari were denied the relics they had long sought, even if it came at a steep cost.
Blood spurting from his left-arm, Krethaq hissed with pain as he watched the Deathwatch aircraft make its escape. He spat via the com-links, lips stuck in a spiteful sneer.
“Any active raiders are to pursue that aircraft. Shoot it down, lest I have you all flayed!”With the order given, the Archon walked out from the thick smoke and onto the courtyard where his surviving kabalites took position by their slain quarry, the large bodies of the Deathwatch standing out amongst the pale wraithbone. After two or three inspections, Krethaq could find no sign of Yl’saeth. Nor Arzurdar.
Upon noticing his bleeding Archon, Uhlaash slithered hastily towards him.
“Masster, you are wounded—” Krethaq raised his hand, cutting the sslyth off.
“Where is the Dracon?” “I have not sseen him ssince the raider, my Archon.”“Arzurdar.” Krethaq called out, an undercurrent of worry audible in the Archon’s voice. All he heard was his voice echoing back to him from the ghostly, blood-soaked ruins.
“Arzurdar!?”
Subject: Deathwatch 
Mon Nov 29 2021, 01:43
