40k Fan Fiction: Abbadon vs. Sigismund
Black Blow Fly unleashes a 40K player’s most powerful weapon – his imagination…
Hi everyone it’s your ever friendly Black Blow Fly dropping into your neighborhood again to spread some mischief and ruin your day… Hehe! This week I have a special treat – I bring to you a short story that will span from the end of the Horus Heresy to post apocalyptic 40k. It’s the story of good versus evil. This is part one of three… I hope you enjoy it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.
++ The ancient sorcerer stared into the scrying crystal. Patches of chopped grey swirled about filling the nether horizon. The psyker sensed something lurking behind the constant static. It was foreboding and unknown. Focusing his mind the sorcerer reached into the immaterium marshaling his will. He could feel the frigid winds of the warp cutting against his astral self. Icy wet shards composed from negative energies scratched at his black armor plate. Slowly a patch of ground began to take shape appearing in the freezing void. Boot tracks frozen into stone marched towards him. The sorcerer leapt back in spite of himself. Bolter casings littered the ground. His spirit form touched down as he merged into the paradox. The earth quaked and he could hear the muffled boom of earth shakers cascading in seried resonance… Then the dark image came crashing through the swirling mist swinging an immense blade back and forth. The monomolecular edge whistled like a screaming banshee then it passed through his incorporeal form. There was intense pain. Immediately he pulled himself free from the mirrored landscape to the apparent safety on the other side.++
The Sorcerer first ran his gauntlets over the hard armored plate of his lower torso. It was cold and untouched. Pressing the studs at the top of his shoulders the plate popped loose falling upon the stone cobbled floor of his chamber. A thin red line glistened across the black carapace like a twisting serpent and thin red blood trickled from the wound. It felt like a jagged razor had pierced his skin. He grimaced then applied healing balms and pungent unguents to staunch the bleeding. His vision grew dim for a moment and he stumbled, tumbling to the floor. The blood continued to flow pooling into the cracks between the cobbled stone. Quickly he focused his mind scanning his interior searching for the poison. The pain grew more intense and his tongue began to swell as his eyes bulged. He lost his focus coiling into a fetal position resisting the urge to moan. Slowly dark points of light grew before his sight blinding him.
+++
There was knocking on Tybal’s chamber door. The Rune Priest frowned as he sat upon a stool. “You’ve broken my meditation. Is there not a sign upon the door?” The knocking continued. “Go away!” The knocking turned to pounding. Tybal slowly rose and gathered his runic staff. “Okay I’m coming. Stop knocking.” the wizard shouted above the din.
The door creaked upon on rusted hinges to reveal one of Thrax’s Chosen. “What do you want now?” asked Tybal. His face was covered in red and black tattoos that hid some of the scars. A long orange goatee hung from his square chin and a skull cap was pulled tight. His fangs protruded from his thin lips flickering under the dim light.
“Thrax requires your help. None of his other sorcerers have managed to reveal the portent hidden within the crystal.” replied the Chosen.
“From what I’ve heard they all met with death. This is a fool’s errand. I’m not interested.”
“Thrax isn’t asking. Consider it an honor.” gruffly said the Chosen.
“Well then let me gather my runes and I’ll be around at the hexing hour. I’ll need a virgin for a blood sacrifice.”
“So be it.” The Chosen slammed the door shut.
+++
Tybal slowly entered the chamber that held the portent crystal. His eyes grew slant and the wizard involuntary clutched his rune staff close to bare muscled chest. Tybal felt the inherent evil seeping off the crystal matrix saturating the dark chamber. Shadows splayed across the cobbled floor revealing where the unsuccessful sorcerers had all fallen victim to the etheric entity. Tybal took a quick glance scyring into the black veil covering the portent. His blood grew cold and he heard daemonic whispers cackling in the background of his pre heightened mind. A chain fashioned from silver runes hung loosely from his broad neck repulsing the negative energy.
The door opened again. Thrax and one of his Chosen entered the chamber. “I have great confidence you shall succeed where the others have failed.” said Thrax.
“Then why did you wait until now to summons me?” Tybal asked bitterly. His eyes veered away from the veil.
“We all know the danger present.” replied Thrax. “I didn’t want to risk losing you but now we really have no other choice. The price of failure will surely cost me my head.” Thrax smiled for a moment then his face grew stern again.
“So you wish to watch the seance?” asked the Space Wolf. “If I should fail I doubt you’ll survive either.”
“As I said my fate is sealed now. Better to risk a glance at the portent when it’s revealed than wait for a sure and painful death.”
“So mote it be.” said Tybal. “Where’s my sacrifice for our dark gods?”
“Here.” said the towering Chosen. He stepped aside revealing a young girl. Her face was smudged with soiled dirt and the streaks from endless tears criss crossed her soft cheeks.
Tybal grimaced. “I want an animal not a human.” he snarled. “A goat or even a starling would suffice.”
“The blood of a young female virgin is much more appealing to the warp.” Thrax countered.
“I’ll have no part in this… Take her away now.” the Wizard commanded.
“You reveal your inner weakness.” Thrax chided. “You have stained many many innocents. What is one more?”
Tybal crossed his huge arms across his chest and shook his head.
“So be it then, we don’t have time to waste arguing now.” Thrax turned to his Chosen. “Take her away and bring something more fitting to the will of the Rune Priest.”
The Chosen glowered within the steep black plates of his ancient armor. “Who is he to command you?”
Thrax struck out immediately crushing his armored fist into the Chosen’s helmet. The Warrior staggered from the blow but quickly righted himself.
“Go now and be quick.” said Thrax.
+++
Tybal crushed the dove grasped within his naked fist and let the blood drip down upon the portent. Immediately the crystal reacted. The dark umber mists within receded to reveal a battle ground. Black clad armored Marines fought on both sides of the battle spilling blood as they rended each other with their weapons of war. Great clouts of smoke filled the air swirling about the wanton destruction. A ruined temple located in the center was held by one squad of Marines firing their lascannons into a charging enemy dreadnaught. Just as it crossed the perimeter the iron clad behemoth exploded in turn vaporizing most of the Devastators. The lone sergeant held up a banner of white with a trifold black cross waving it madly above his bare head. The ground shook as barrage struck nearby driving him to his knees. Something then slithered within the ruins. The sergeant drove the spike of the banner into the forehead of a gigantic black serpent as its coils spasmed. Convulsing in its death roes the viper then lay still.
The main barrage then began and it was indiscriminate. Gigantic blasts rained upon both sides. Everything was obscured. Shadows of death played within the maelstrom as the bombing continued. Tybal could feel the heavy vibration as he splayed his hands across the top of the crystal. It felt as if it would shatter. There was a rapid pounding across his temples and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He snorted back the raw blood dripping from his nostrils and felt the bile taste as it ran down the back of his throat. Ripping his hands free the wizard stepped back clutching at the silver runes around his neck. Slowly the pounding sensation began to recede. The smoke cleared within the portent to reveal a barren wasteland. All that was left was a few stones from the temple amd the ground burned. Tybal then heard heavy steps upon unseen stone.
A squad of Iron Warriors emerged into view the grooved soles of their iron shod boots clanking against the broken stone. They held their bolters at hip level as they searched the burning debris for any survivors. The sergeant carried a large plasma pistol and lead from the front. A cloud of dense smoke rolled across blotting out the view then came the sound of heavy steps again. A survivor clad in black plate charged into the conflagration swinging a long black sword.
+++
The crystalline shell of the portent lay cracked and ruined. Etheric liquid seeped out spilling upon the chamber floor pooling into solid form then evaporating into nothingness.
“What just happened?” asked Thrax in a vexing tone. “What did we just see?” he asked.
“Nothing good.” replied Tybal. “Something wicked comes this way.”
“I need answers, not riddles.” said Thrax.
“I sense a temporal shift. Two different points in time are merging. The result shall be utter ruin and destruction.” Tybal said as he stepped away from the broken portent. “The battle we witnessed was the precursor… The first point in time dating back to the original heresy. We witnessed a small portion of the final battle on Terra. Templars from the Imperial Fists original legion were fighting the Sons of Horus… Your Black Legion now.”
Part 2 – Battle on Terra
The fighting took place on what was once a parade ground just outside the gates to the Emperor’s palace. Swarms of angry World Eaters covered the torn earth like army ants combing the battlefield. Overhead daemons filled the sky blotting out any sunlight. The traitors surged towards the sole point of ingress into the interior. Dead bodies of Imperial Fists littered the ground. Yellow armor was rent and the blood had dried long ago. Chain axes whirred as the crazed maniacs struck blindly at the fallen. There was no resistance in this forgotten sector. A large mob of World Eaters swarmed over a patch of torn ground revealing a studded hatch. One by one each rivet exploded until the hatch was free. A large traitor dropped his weapons clutching at the sunken rim and grunted as his finger tips dug into the earth clasping at the hatch. Servos whined as the mad warrior bent down and lifted it prying it slowly free. Something dark lurked below then an arc of energy lanced out from the hole vaporizing the World Eater’s helmet. He tumbled over dropping the hatch. One grenade after another sprang out releasing a sudden cloud of toxins. A black helm jutted up followed by a plasma pistol. More shots rang out incinerating one World Eater after another. The Moritat stepped up clearing the opening holding each pistol at waist level. Some of the close by traitors were immediately overcome by the dense toxic cloud blackening the soft white armor. The pistols fired in unison clearing out a space around the dark opening. Turning from one side to another the Moritat leveled the enemy. The World Eaters cried out in anger as they jostled against each other to fill the open ground.
++ Marine 1 hold the line ++
++ Reserves are on the way ++
++ Marine 3 is down ++
The pistols rose to shoulder height as the Moritat sprang from the open hatch chain firing straight into the largest mob of World Eaters. Just as one pistol silenced the last one he spun in place engaging the next mob from behind. The World Eaters answered en masse closing the gap stepping over the freshly slain. Micro grenades auto launched from the beaded thrusters, each fitted snugly beneath the plasma pistols. The grenades unfolded releasing the Phosphex rapidly intertwining with the living. The ground burned to grey ash and smelter as the deadly fumes rose up like funeral Lilies. Some of the World Eaters lifted chunks of broken ferrocrete lobbing it at the Moritat. He shot one brick apart then stepped quickly aside as another broken piece thudded beside him. Again the Imperial Fist spent another round of Phosphex to clear the enemy. Overhead bomb clusters began to rain down from the hidden skies incinerating whole packs of daemons. A piece of ore clipped the Moritat’s helmet scarring the pitch black film to reveal a silvered line. Dropping to his knees the Templar trained both pistols on a charging squad of Rampagers. Each click of the triggers blew apart one after another until all were gone. The barrels whined under the strain.
The ground began to rumble and quake then a hidden pair of bay doors covered by rubble and broken terrain blew open. A Leviathan emerged from the huge rent charging straight into the fray. The metal clad behemoth fired its Grav Flux Bombard erasing a large cluster of World Eaters. It grabbed a champion in its claw shredding the traitor to pulp with a quick flick then threw the bloody remains aside. Vox speakers mounted on top of the hulking chassis blared “There are those who oppose…”. The mantra played back over and over again as the dreadnaught routed the traitors.
++ Marine 2 has arrived ++
“Area cleared.” spoke the Moritat.
“Return to base and await further instructions.” The voice over the vox carried a stern clipped tone. “Well done brother.”
The Moritat holstered his twin pistols then removed his helmet. Phosphex gas still seeped through the immediate area. His face was heavily scarred and disfigured from the war. One eye had been replaced by a bionic implant. He replaced his helmet then stepped back towards the empty gate. The dreadnaught ambled over towering above the Moritat.
Static crackled over the vox speakers mounted on top of the Leviathan then a recorded message began to play back at a high pitch “Abbadon, Sigismund has issued a personal challenge to you. Meet here within the next hour.” The message played back several times booming in stilted cadence as the gigantic construct backed down into the open hangar doors. “Failure to comply shall mark you as a coward.”
+++
Duel
Abbadon stood at one end of the wasted battlefield surrounded by his Justarein. The pitch black plate shone like polished onyx and the brass studs glittered for just a moment. His helmet was maglocked to his utility belt and he frowned revealing teeth filed down to sharp pointed fangs. His eyes gleamed an even darker black than the armor. The Justarein were massive brutes but their captain towered above them. A cool wind blew then soft flakes of snow began to drift down one by one speckling their plate. Chonic red tattoos glistened upon Abbadon’s tight scalp. “I hate you!” He thought to himself.
There came a resonant pitch as a black Spartan rolled onto the opposite side of the battlefield. The quad lascannon sponsons barked simultaneously in unison as bright searing beams of dark potent energies lay waste to several of the Sons of Horus then the front hatch yawned open. Sigismund the first captain of the Imperial Fists leapt out with his Templar brethren racing toward them. Sigismund drew the black blade from its scabbard holding the ancient weapon high above his head. Black rays shot forth from one edge lancing the Justareins’ armor. So potent a relic it was the very air grew thinner and freezing rain split forth from the dark skies above. “This is my day!” shouted Sigismund above the roaring din of the Spartan’s engine. “Glory to mankind!”
Quickly the two opposing forces collided. Abbadon spit acid blood at Sigismund and sneered. It splat on the Templar captain’s armor and slid off. “Clear out!” shouted Sigismund’s sergeant at arms. “Let our Captains fight their honor duel.”
Sigismund’s voice sounded like the roar of a lion “Might does not make right. You cannot simply take what you want. There are those who oppose you and can also destroy you. You came to Terra to destroy all that is good in the name of your new gods.” The black sword struck down splitting a Justarein next to Abbadon in twain. “Your black crusade ends today Abbadon. What are you against me? I am no fool either and now you stand before me.” Sigismund smiled bitterly then struck out again chopping the top not from Abbadon’s head. “One mere scratch from my blade and you are dead.” Abbadon lifted his power sword to block the sudden rain of hammering blows. “I am testing you now.”
END 1ST CHAPTER
