Screams continued to fill my ears as I blinked multiple times, the colors of blood red and copper filled my eyes as I launched myself forwards and grabbed my Thunderhammer before I forced myself to turn to see the new adversary.
The first thing that violated my senses was red and blood, the being before me was brutal in its design and nature. Leathery bat-like wings spread out in its cruel glory as the twisted goat horns on its head dripped with blood.
The legs were hoof-like, with burning brimstone replacing the rockcrete wherever the daemons' foot fell. The daemon was a ball of unbounded muscle and unrestrained devastation, the mouth was a whirlwind of sharp teeth and the daemons' eyes held nothing in contempt and fury.
And its height made me seem like a midget, a massive creature of colossal brutality; its height like that of a cruel mockery of a divine being as its massive 9 meter tall figure blotted out the corrupted sun before me.
"Bloodthirster" I muttered, my mind properly identifying the creature before me as my eyes narrowed, the daemon didn't care about what I said as it raised its two copper axes in the sky both weeping blood.
An indescribable sound came out of it as I rose to my full height and I steeled myself against the Daemon of Khrone.
"Bring it" I didn't assault it, I didn't laugh at it, I merely accepted what was happening before me, leaving the outcome open to both of us.
The Daemon moved, not walked, not run, because for it to do so it needed to hit the ground. Instead the Bloodthirster merely lunged for me with a cackle in its throat and a smile full of blood farmed on its failure of a face.
My eyes widened before I stepped forwards, the daemons axes came down with the force of the heavens, my Thunderhammer met its axes, the null field within the Thunderhammer strained as both of our weapons interlocked.
The Daemon breathed on me, a miasma of magma hot air and dripping blood washed over my helmeted face, but the pure smell of copper assaulted my nose.
I didn't back down.
I took a step to the side looking to disengage, but the a massive foot slammed into me forcing me back; I saw colors fly past me as I not only flew back but skipped on the ground multiple times like a pebble on the ground.
I had no business fighting a Bloodthirster, I was far too small and had next to no experience compared to it; but I refuse to back down.
I slowly got to my feet, my joints felt heavy, that kick must've broken something in me as I heard my heartbeat in my own ears as I settled on my feet. My flickering vision slowly orientates itself back onto the approaching Daemon.
"Your skull to Khrone" it spoke simply, but that all it needed to say, its voice was that of a chainsaw speaking with war fresh on its teeth.
I stood on both of my feet as I hefted up my Thunderhammer in both of my hands, its null field flickering on itself, I simply exhaled the sound finally entering my ears and sadly it didn't comfort me.
"I will strike you down" it wasn't a challenge, the words that came out of my mouth were more of a statement which caused the Bloodthirster to let out a smile of violence.
I moved first as the daemon roared before it charged at me then it jumped up, less jumped and more ascended as its bat-like wings extended like a false god with both axes over its head like Zeus's lightning.
I gave all of myself to the side, abandoning every commitment I had forwards as the daemon lashed downwards the force the axes landed downwards were akin to that of divine judgement. Rockcrete exploded out hitting my army and bouncing off the daemons' skin.
I wasn't idle.
I gave it my all as I brought down my Thunderhammer with all of my fury, the hammer landing true over the Daemons' head rocking the Daemon a bit. I didn't let up as I let gravity bring both my arms and the hammer to the side before I lashed out in a roar of defiance slamming the hammer into its face.
The daemon took a step back.
Then the Daemons' arm came back in a backhand before I could react, I was too close for the axe to hit me but the forearm of the Daemon struck true and I flew again.
This time I only rolled three times as before I had no time to count the times I saw the sky this time I could. I breathed out as I headed a roar of rage and satisfaction.
"Khrone cares not from where the blood flows!" The Daemon was running towards me, I knew from the way the ground rumbled, then I rolled narrowly dodging an axe slamming where I was just a moment ago.
I continued as I felt hoofs fall where I once was each stomp was a cruel destruction to the hive city below before I managed to stumble to my feet, and as I just managed to stabilize myself an axe descended and my Thunderhammer met it.
An explosion of wind surrounded us, the sheer force of the Daemons' attack caused the shockwave, then my knee hit the ground, my hammer barely holding back the axe above me.
The Daemon cackled "join us, you'd revel in that of bloodshed!" The daemon spoke as I audibly grunted.
"N-never!" I grunted out, and I yelled out my answer but no sudden strength came forth as the sheer mass of the Daemon forced me to stay on one knee.
"Then die, your skull will join Khorne's throne" the Daemon raised its second axe as my eyes widened as the Daemon only chuckled no doubt relishing in the thought of bisecting me.
I dashed to the side, the axe that was being held back from my hammer grazed my left pauldron as sparks flew before the butt of my hammer stabbed the gut of the Daemon, the Daemon howled in pain as it took a step back once more.
I pulled the Thunderhammer out and with a righteous fury I didn't know I had I slammed the hammer into the jaw of the Daemon, then I decided to switch it up as I reeled back the Thunderhammer and slammed the hammer down into the Bloodthirsters' monstrous kneecap.
However it still broke but as I looked up I saw the wound I made on its gut had already healed, but I didn't let up as I reached up and grabbed one of its jagged teeth and brought it low all the while bringing up my Thunderhammer.
They met in a flash of blood and teeth all the while the Daemon howled in a furious pain. The leathery wings flared out as the Daemon dropped one of its axes and reached out to me, easily grabbing me. The massive hand slammed into me before its fingers gripped me. Pain flared all around me as Ceremite cracked and groaned under its terrifyingly strong grip.
A furious roar assaulted my ears before I was lifted and slammed down on the ground multiple times, the first time I didn't feel much pain, a burst of disorientation from the sudden shift in position, pain finally came in on the fourth strike.
Then for some reason the Daemon dragged me on the groin back and forth two times, each glimpse of the outside world was a violent burst of color and sparks from my armor assaulting the ground before he threw me into the air.
In those few seconds the destroyed sky was beautiful, the shimmering colors of red reminded me of a setting sun back on earth, then I turned towards the Daemon giving out a roar of pure violence, its wounds that I have inflicted have already healed, the only proof of injury was its prejudice it held against me.
Then I came down with the fury of a meteor just as my form met that of the massive fist of the Bloodthirster and instead of flying through the air I was soaring. The building grew distant as my enhanced mind started to weakly calculate the distance I flew.
Fifty meters flew with next to no resistance, seventy flew by as resistance was finally felt; as if reality itself finally realized the action of me flying through the air without my consent. A hundred meters arrived and then I finally started to come back down, no doubt hitting the apex of my arc.
Distance was calculated as three hundred meters suddenly grew between me and my fight between the Daemon, the Thunderhammer in my grip slipped and flew off almost distancing itself away from me, and then the buildings of the hive passed me as I went down like a comet and I tensed reading for pain.
I landed hard, so hard that my cremate buckled underneath it as I broke through the first level of the hive and skipped on the second level each landing made my teeth rattle and finally before I could think that that was all I came at a stop as I slammed into a wall, a cobweb of cracks appeared on the wall from where I hit it.
I breathed slowly as I felt blood in my mouth, I felt pain all across my body, my ceremite armor - holy in it's architecture was cracked, dented, and scarred everywhere; my cloak - if I still had it - was probably tattered beyond sight and something inside me felt broken
Breathing was slightly difficult and for once I felt an emotion other than distant apathy which was fear, fear of dying again and fear of failing before the golden figure.
I blinked multiple times the dark spots slowly flickering out of sight as I scanned the room, through the pain I saw multiple murals of the Allfather, saints, and scripture I couldn't read.
I slowly sat up, muscles protesting and no doubt broken bones screaming out as I ever so slowly got up on my feet, my vision swam, my right side of my helmet was so cracked that I could barely see out of the right side of my helmet.
Standing up took far more effort than I was willing to admit, but I did so anyway, heat radiated from my legs as I only took a step forwards, in front of me was a failure to the golden throne; it was made in its image but not of gold but rather iron.
On it was a proud man who held closed eyes and pure contempt on his lips. I took another step forwards and my legs buckled again, my hefty weight seeming rumbled through the cathedral for a lack of a better word.
I dropped to my knees as I fell, my body breaking down but my mind more than alive, I blinked once as I let my eyes raise to the Allfather, I slowly swallowed as I felt my eyelids grow heavy and my broken armor now no longer that of a beautiful craftsmanship of eternal beauty but rather a cracked and broken tomb.
I inhaled as I stared at the visage of the Emperor of mankind; something in me bristled, or moved, as if I was bowing to something, or rather someone, who simply wasn't there.
I gasped, the breathing was broken with liquids within the sound as I fell forwards, my vision darkening into that of a tunnel of dark, and I spoke.
Not in Gothic, but in English, and here in the 41 millennium it was a dead language but when I spoke it; it felt as if reality itself held its breath.
"Emperor… tell me… are you truly a god?" I spoke, the Scandinavian accent was strong as I spoke, I only asked this not out of desperation but from a place of curiosity.
Then darkness cruelly came.
—————————
The Emperor of mankind, The Master of Mankind, The Anathema, Neoth, all these names are he yet none of them fully encompass his visage. The Emperor rarely speaks, and when he does it's a broken mess of barely discernible words.
But his mind was not a mess, from eternally thinking of that day he saw his son struck low, to his son being crucified before him, to the blood spilt of his favorite. The Master of mainland thinks of this all the while he maintains the Astronomicon, the beacon of the warp.
All the while he maintains the lighthouse of humanity, something called to him, in that of a dead language, but when it was spoken, his entire soul shook; Daemons often trick him with the languages of his kind, especially Nurgle but this wasn't Daemon.
He could tell immediately.
It was akin to him, so close that 'human' was the only thing he could call it, yet something about it felt wrong, it didn't belong yet. It didn't want to leave.
So he stretched out his psyche and the Astronomicon stayed the same but the golden light that forever dwells in the Sanctum Imperialis flicked, so much so that the Adeptus Custodes noticed, and the Sisters of Silence shook with a certain fear that they couldn't tell; As if their god has stood up and decided to take a stroll for all of a millisecond.
Almost immediately he was before that of a small cathedral, so small it could barely hold his form, or at least his prime human form, before him laid a broken man, for any other words would fail him.
His once proud ceremite armor seemingly held itself by only its will, far passing the threshold needed to break it. The once gleaming red cape that would sing the man's heraldry was torn, looking more of a barren battlefield than that of a cloak.
However The Anathema looked closer, for as he learned time and time again the outer shell far underestimates the man that lies within; so he did so, and what he saw made him still.
Not in shock, for such an emotion was gone from him long ago, but rather of that of confusion. The soul that was brought before him held no such containment from the warp, no hold from it, but rather a painful silence from the Sisters of Silence.
A strange warmth came from the soul, a hymn, a song.
So Neoth decided to take a risk. He listened, he no longer listened to the trillions of prayers he gets every second and decided to focus on the man' s soul, and thus before The Emperor a song - no, a mantra was played before him.
'Hero, hero, hero'
It wasn't forced onto the soul as it was rather clean of chaos taint, almost previously so, but the Anathema couldn't tear his gaze away; he did know one thing however, heroes aren't needed, martyrs and sacrifices are.
He looked closer, there he saw impossibly made manifest, people, if they could be called that, breaking planets, energy beams going off to destroy planets. A monster made in a god's image who was a void that ate souls, a monster who hunted monsters.
A blade that held a soul of its own; one that was guiding another warrior to break his limits to save his loved ones. From saying a single word and being able to amplify their power exponentially.
Another one, made from trauma and rage, yet despite the horror he endured he continued to save others. A figure of green carried a weapon he had not seen in millennia killing beings that resembled daemons by thousands.
All of the beings flashed before the Emperor without reverence, without prayer; confusion continued to be amplified within him as he stared at the soul.
The Master of Mankind stayed silent for just but a moment, a moment that would crush anyone that wasn't his Custodes. Then he made his decision.
He didn't need a hero, if he did, he'd would've sent his Custodes out, for any one of them would be a warrior sung within the galaxy.
What he needed was a monster in his name.
So the Master of Mankind, The Emperor man, The Anathema, Neoth; began carving into the man's soul, a methodical procession in such a way that wasn't used since he sent his sons out to the stars.
But a Primarch wasn't being made, especially in physical form. In the fractured, broken form of both beings, man and near-god, something was being made that not even the Emperor would fully comprehend.
Within the Tempestus Hive on Armageddon Secundus, underneath the spiritual gaze and hands of the Master of Mankind, a being was made, a hero for the Imperium, but a monster for anyone else who had half the idea of what the Emperor was doing.
——————————
Upon the Battle Barge Gylfarhiem, the Chapter Master Logan Grimnar of the Space Wolves, the sons of Leman Russ, approached the planet Armageddon.
Logan Grimnar was a massive brute of muscle and armor, draped over his Ceremite armor was that of a wolf pelt that signified his rank, if that did not; the golden wolf head that stabilized itself just above his head gleamed down.
Its snarling visage being the glory of both the chapter but also the Fang itself, Logan was white haired, with long, flowing, white hair that flew with a wild savagery that didn't detract with his strategic mind.
Logan didn't necessarily had a beard, but he had a massive breaded mustache that flowed down to his collarbone, or rather where his collarbone would be if he wouldn't wear his armor.
The planet was under siege from that of World Eaters, along with their Daemon Primarch - the fallen son of the Emperor - Angron was there unleashed total hell upon the people that lay there.
Chapter Master Logan Grimmar analyze the multiple reports on vox channels along with that of the map of the planet with the traitor Astartes along with Khorne's' Daemons positioning themselves among the lines of defenses, whom for all their limitations are holding valiantly.
Brother-Captain Taremar Aurellian of the Grey Knights - Astartes made from the Emperor's gene-seed - walked up next to him studying that of the map with barely held contempt.
Taremar Aurellian was a massive mountain of a white knight, purity seals covering nearly every cervus of his armor. The flowing green cloak held both his rank but also his duty, his helmet was that resembling a medieval knights' with even more purity seals.
"What are you thinking, Chapter Master?" Taremar spoke as he gazed over the map.
"That you'll be the greatest weapon we have in breaking this siege" the Fenris accent was beyond heavy for his voice, it actually took a heartbeat for the Grey Knight to fully understand him.
"You will not deploy us immediately?" Taremar asked confusingly.
The Chapter master of the Wolves turned to him "indeed, if Angron learns of you too early" he let the implication on his tongue, which the Brother-Captain could easily fill in.
"So what's the plan?" Logan Grimmar gave a feral smirk at the idea.
"Classic divide and conquer, or at least our version of it." An idea of a plan came forth on the hologram before him.
"We drop down on the planets' surface and we attempt to bring out Angron; then when he's out you and your company will bring him to his knees" Logan made it simple; or at least as simple as it was for a Space Wolf.
"Until then?" Taremar narrowed his eyes.
"Pray to the Allfather" Logan gave the name of the Emperor out as if it was obvious "until then, let my chapter go and make a saga out of this little incursion the traitor legion might make."
"M'lord" a serf underneath the Space Wolves' chapter approached with reverence.
"Speak" Logan didn't even meet the eyes of the mortal.
"An Inquisitor has requested Vox communication, he holds multiple squads of Deathwatch members for when an Ork assault was happening" both Astartes bristled at that, either the Orks were still down there and fighting both Traitor and imperial forces, or they were dead.
"Put him through, we will assess the deathwatch members that are down on the surface" Logan commanded.
A murmur came from Taremar "if they still live" Logan scowled at that but nevertheless continued on within mere moments a pict feed came on showing the Inquisitor in all of his blackened glory.
The inquisitor was old, with a balding head with grey hairs, the left side of his face was covered in that of mechanical eyes, three of them in fact. The left side of his face has a scar that went to lip to ear, leaving the right side of his face uncharacteristicly clean of scars.
The inquisitor had a long black coat with the aquila of the Inquisition proudly stationed onto his chest, the long black coat held golden chains that linked onto his pockets. Upon the Inquisitors' face was a grimace and a frown that seemingly fit the inquisitors' face.
"I am Inquisitor Ravenor, I am currently under the traitor Astartes' assault and I'm requesting immediate resistance!" The Inquisitor spoke as sparks' flew around him.
Brother-Captain Taremar nodded towards Logan as he frowned a bit, no doubt feeling a bit disrespected at the no mentioning of his rank as Chapter Master not being noticed but nevertheless Logan responded.
"Aye" the Chapter Master of the Space Wolves nodded grimly before he could respond further, his eyes widened as something massive took his attention from the inquisitor.
Out in space next to Armageddon a massive chaos tainted vessel shook the reality next to it. A Space Hulk visible from even million of kilometers away from the planet howled out its rage and brutal cruelty as the vox communication ended with the Inquisitor as massive Warp Storms filled every area.
"By the Allfather" Logan muttered out as Taremar cussed as he waved out a command, both null fields came on as the entire 3rd brotherhood of Grey Knights commanded their pykers to erect nullification fields whenever they could.
"SPACE HULK, I REPEAT SPACE HULK!" Logan Grimnar's voice yelled out over the vox as the entire chapter of the Space Wolves mobilized into both drop pods and Thunderhawks.
Reports rang out as multiple reports came in, raining from Daemons, Chaos Cultists, mutants, several Greater Daemons. It seemed never ending, Logan moved with the expertise that understated his experience, he went from one end of the bridge to the other in mere heartbeats.
"By the Allfather, it's Angron!" Taremar bristled at that, his precognition showed correct when Logan announced the Daemon Primarch.
"We'll await your signal" Taremar spoke as Logan nodded, no longer needing to plan; they only had one objective, banish Angron.
"BROTHERS!" Logan spoke over his vox channel connected to every Space Wolf Astartes who immediately instinctively stood at attention where they were.
"We have arrived mere moments from Armageddon, where Captain-Brother Taremar was correct! Angron and his traitor Astartes have been confirmed to be in a space hulk!" Nearly every single space wolf had a feral smile onto their face, a true saga to be put into the Fangs.
"Our goal is to bring down Angron so that the Grey Knights can banish him! Let Fenis sing of this day, let our Blood-Father sing of us! We shall fight like the wolves we are!" The Chapter Ancient came forth as the massive banner of the space wolves was revealed.
Dreadnaughts bristled and whirled, within their metal sarcophagus, from the First Borns, to the new Dreadnaughts, all felt a familiar rage at the name of Angron. Blood Claws smiled at the thought to carve their names into sagas as fresh blood.
From packleaders, to Wolf Priests, all had a different reaction to the Daemon Primarch, but all had the same feeling deep down: anticipation.
"We shall show him the price of breaking oaths to the Allfather, and when we're done, we'll break not only his cursed sword, but his will!" Logan's impromptu speech made most if not all space wolves revel in the thought of spilling not only Angrons' blood but his sons' as well.
The Wolf Guard near their Jarls' gave the sign of respect as he nodded at their approach, all readying themselves to make a saga beyond the Fangs, something that'll be a chapter wide saga.
"Jarl" a Wolf Priest spoke as he approached the Chapter Master, the Chaplin Rune Priest had a white beard, and fangs that poked out from his lips, the priest held more scars than that of clean skin.
"Speak" Logan cut off his vox communicator as he turned to his priest.
"A deathwatch member is that of our chapter" the priest spoke plainly "the inquisitors' ship sent out its data before that warp storm destroyed his ship"
Logan narrowed his eyes "then why're you bring this up instead of one of my Techmarine?" Logan was curious, after all only a Wolf Priest would come around when the question of faith came to the Allfather.
"The one that was sent there was Agnar Wolfbreaker, I sent him to the Deathwatch myself" the Priest handed over a dataslate "I sent him there when he spoke to me doubting the Allfathers' claim to godhood."
Logan narrowed his eyes at the words before he looked over the data slates' information, it showed the information over the Dishonored Space Wolf member now a part of the Deathwatch. Standing at nearly two and a half meters, showing enhanced speed and strength compared to even a normal Astartes.
Agnar showed skill in nearly everything that he touched, showing extensive experience in that of being a Scout. Not only that but having slight sensitivity to the warp.
Logan's eyes went back to the priest "what do you think?" The Great Wolf decided to see what the priest decided, after all he had more in the terms of faith when it comes to such matters.
"That we keep an eye out for him, if he shows promise and honor through combat we'd welcome him back into the chapter" he spoke as he stared at the Jarl, the veteran Wolf Guards nearby shifted ever so slightly at the thought of a dishonored wolf coming back into the fold.
The Great Wolf mulled over this before he spoke "aye" Logan nodded "if Agnar shows promise he'll be welcomed back, if he dies or does not we forget about him"
The Wolf Priest nodded at the decision before he walked away and Logan swiftly changed topics back to tactics and strategy.
"Ready the drop pods and Thunderhawks; I want our forces on the ground and hunting within the day!" Logan barked out his order as normal humans near him nodded and saluted ready to relay the command.
————————————
On Armageddon, in Hive Tempest, in a citadel on the first layer, on the second level of the first layer a being played before a statue of the God-emperor laid a broken man.
The angel of death laid on his stomach, his armor ruined beyond repair, and his once elegant cloak was that of a battlefield of holes and tears. However, despite his broken form his hand twitched and the stone gaze that the statue somehow, impossibly turned towards him.
Then, again, impossibly, the broken angel gasped; as the man stirred shadows, not in the immaterium, but in reality, they seemingly recoiled from him. Even in his broken form he started to move, with ragged breaths.
Every movement, every breath, every color his eyes saw caused a twinge of pain, and when he got to a kneeling position the scars on his armor started to glow faintly golden, not that of the Emperor's light.
The light had a twinge of something other than the over-baring that the Master of Mainkind had, it was simply different. It wasn't as simply to say that the golden color was a different hue or a different feeling; because it wasn't, it was downright wrong.
So wrong that the chaos, as faint as it was, even as the faint omnipresent taint of chaos couldn't deny that this felt wrong. The man, the being in the room didn't belong here, let alone in the Immaterium.
Then he fully stood in the room as he gasped for breaths, his box grill amplifying his desperate struggle for air, even his armor signified his struggle.
Then the hive stirred as the three way war outside seemingly ramped up, as belief, despair, and last stands happened all at once, it seemed to awaken the being in the room, its fists clenching and unclenching causing the small tinks surrounding the room.
Then its head snapped to the exit of the citadel, the once proudly place of worship which once held hundreds of souls to pray to their dying god was empty, with hundreds of benches all still standing with untouched reverence.
The ruined cloak seemingly surrounded the armored being, its ruined tails seemingly, impossibly touched the ground ruining the sanctified area. The holy place of worship almost cried out as howls of both Orks and traitors' alike cried out shaking the hives' upper levels.
The breathing steadied itself as it started to walk forwards, the golden glow of the armor stopped, it didn't repair its damage, but rather hardened the armor. Ceremite, both holy in its making and sanctified in its use, seemingly condensed into a harder unspeakable material.
"Oh holy saints, oh holy Emperor, grant us mercy" a voice, unnoticed before, had finally entered the range of the enhanced beings' hearing as it approached the two massive doors of the citadel.
Payers to the Emperor, it didn't even slow the beings' movements instead it seemingly emboldened the movement, looking up at the massive doors that held revered murals of both saints and the Emperor himself.
The Angel of death opened the door without ceremony, almost instantly the whispering prayers stopped as they turned to him, they were many, malnourished, tired, and terrified.
Children held their shaken mothers, fathers attempted to shield both wives and children, and all of them held despair in their hearts. They all turned to him, not a single flash of hope came to their eyes, only terrified resgnition.
The angel didn't cast his gaze down towards the mortals, but rather his eyes swept them instead taking them in as a collective, and a rage filled his being, his baleful eyes or rather what passes for eyes, red and glowing like raging suns seemingly glowed.
"This… is unacceptable" he spoke, rather than mentioning the civilians that weren't fighting he was talking about something else.
"Who… who are you?" A civilian, most likely a man, or rather what passes for a man in such a horrible state, the man spoke as if he was speaking to a legend only out of a book in murals.
"I am" the angel stopped his sentence, words failing him completely and utterly, what he saw after he passed out couldn't be put into words, he saw giant men, a duty that was as heavy as a species' will to survive, a betrayal that hurt so much so that words failed.
A fallen son crucified.
A mockery of a dream.
Cruel laughter behind a fragile wall that eyes failed to see.
Countless golden warriors surrounding him.
A friend dying on a deadly throne.
The Angel, for all his now immense memories that weren't his own at all blinked and exhaled, the vox grill catching his breath. The sound frightened the Imperial Citizens around him, believing that due to their ignorance they'd die for it.
"I… I am Vengence… not the Emperors' but yours" the Angel bristled as he clenched his fists "I am mankind's' answers to your pleas"
He knew he was wrong for his answers, but his fury, his pure rage override both his enhanced mind and his normal one. It felt righteous but also overdue, like a bill that was forgotten months ago finally came and when it did it came with the problems that came with it.
"Do not fear" he spoke slowly "for I will protect your souls eternally" as he finished his impromptu oath he couldn't help but feel further upset at his words, something was wrong with them.
'These aren't my words' the thought came with a realization that was heavier than duty. Something else or someone else was forcing his mouth and throat to form words that simply weren't his.
It didn't anger him, rather it further expedited his thoughts on… killing the traitors, the corrupt, the daemons, anyone who'd betray their own kind for power or anyone who'd hurt those below them just because they could.
Smells that weren't smells but rather concepts and actions filled his mind, he smelt every drop of blood every inquisitor spilt on this planet just for suspicion, every crime committed, every sin the governors made just to satisfy themselves, every action that spilt human blood.
It made him indescribably angry, and the war outside didn't help.
"Point to the exit" he stated, he couldn't help but fear his own actions should he stay here, he didn't want to kill these people, he didn't want to hurt innocent people.
A woman pointed, her hands covered in ash and dirt, and shaking with fear, looking over her brought fury like none other.
"Do not worry… this will not stand" it was more for him rather than them, but it didn't matter, innocent blood was spilt, and he refused to allow anyone to walk away unscathed - especially those who swore to protect them only to break their oaths.
He walked, his steps nearly cracking rockcrete, it felt as if the planet itself was responding to his anger, his desire, his intent.
All the while, he could swear he heard someone whispering to him.