Author Topic: In stamine atque subtegmine.  (Read 194 times)

Et Malleus

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In stamine atque subtegmine.
« on: October 31, 2014, 09:06:42 PM »
Thirty thousand years, Malleus. Thirty thousand long, dismal years. In all the world's trouble and trials, men and women looked for the intrinsic goodness within their very hearts. Courageous, upstanding, noble, honest. Loyal. Thirty thousand years tells a long list of truths, does it not, Wolf Lord? Thirty thousand years we've known each other, proud Wulfen and dismal usurper. Your Emperor could not kill me, Malleus. No, not even he can kill what is most integral to being human, to being man.

We are selfish beasts, we are more animal than we know. Embrace the Chaos, embrace the Warp. It is ready for you, Space Wolf.


Between the poor comfort of a blanket and sweat marred sheets, Antonius Preco, Et Malleus in his own tongue, twisted and rose like some feral incarnation of the wolf his people served. The dim lighting in his rented room, seedy and neglected, did little to hinder eyesight perfected by the Emperor's creation, a fully fledged gene child. Aware that this was only a dream, one of many he'd encountered since he and the shattered remnants of the 13th Company, Wulfen, had left the Warp, he could not shake the chill that tattered flags waving against a starless sky left behind.

Slowly, the man stood, drenched in sweat though the night was chill and the insulation thin. After moments of restless pacing, he glared across the frozen surface of a window cut into the flimsy walls. As the moon's waxing light bathed his laconic features, he shook his head and violently drank from a bottle he'd left near his bed. The whiskey, acerbic and chilled, drew turgid lines through his flooded system, flooded by the knowledge of his experiences, stilled by the crushing weight of reality earned and triumph lost.

"Damn you, Horus, damn you Thousand Suns. Damn you all back to the Warp, where you may stay forever! Just deserts to those who were so corrupt, for the moon reveals all truth, all honesty."

The words were growls more than anything else, the feral intelligence, keen and bright, hidden beneath the crystal walls of his eyes spoke to the heart and soul of savage winter, ambivalent, cutting frost.

You can come back, you know.

The voice, a grim amalgamation of ten thousand screams, echoed in the chill, dank halls of his mind. Out of instant reaction, be brought a seamed, weathered fist down onto his nightstand with all the fury of a north wind carrying so many storms.

" 'Ay, you up there! You're payin' for that, you damn freak job! We can all 'ear you howling, mate, and screaming when you're sleepin'. Lucky you paid on time!"

The man's drunken speech brought Antonius back to this world, back to the reality of his troubled life and haunting dreams.

"What purpose, Great Emperor, do you have for me here?" The first sign of expression was an imploring, almost baffled sigh.

Et Malleus

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Re: In stamine atque subtegmine.
« Reply #1 on: October 14, 2015, 01:27:03 AM »
He was still looking for that purpose, still lost behind the walls of frigid ice that  had been his safe harbor for quite so many years. Close to a hundred of them, truth be told. His song was a saga, a dirge that wrapped around the mountain top retreats that had harbored his Primaris' promise to a fallen Emperor.

He still didn't know. A broken Razorback, his armor and his weapons. He'd emerged from the Warp with nothing more and nothing less, save himself and his incessant need to survive. How the winds had roared, how the wold had howled that night! A strange city, baffling people and customs he could not understand. The stars were so far away, his freedom lost among the city streets and clustered buildings that felt like a prison to him. Bars and walls, windows with no glass. The wind didn't whistle here. The hunt, the Long March, had ended.

He stumbled back up the steps that lead towards the door to his apartment. His steps were poorly guided, he missed one at least twice. Why had he answered those questions? It wasn't because he'd been drunk, though it'd be impossible to say that he wasn't. The door creaked open on his third attempt and and let him into the darkness of his humble abode. He'd lived in the belly of Imperial frigates and the backs of Landraiders too long to consider this bad. It was simply austere and Spartan in taste and function. It provided him with what he needed, nothing more and nothing less. No art, no flowers, there were no rugs and no decorations.

He fell into the bed, hand already reaching for the half full bottle of bourbon that sat with measured patience on the bedside table. It knew he'd never forget, he'd always be there. The trickling liquid burned a common path down his throat quickly and easily.

She's weakness, Malleus. They all inspire it in men, you know. Care, brave champion. Your use will come soon; you will know. Care, tread softly when you walk across pools of silk and long hair.

The words came from the Primaris Shard that rested in the armor across the room. It stood of it's own volition, it seemed a silent sentinel, judging and assessing him with careless ease. Aspect of the Wolf, Russ' very chest plate.

He turned and pressed his face into the pillow, though sleep wouldn't come quickly. Moments later both hands interlaced and were slipped under his head.

"But she's beautiful, my old friend, she is that."