Thawed Heart

A Story written by an amateur writer (Rougemastert)

THAWED HEART

<Recording begin> <growls, and thick, heavy breathing… a constant tick in the backround.> That bastard is giving me time to prepare Not that a Berzerker needs it- we’re always ready to kill. The Nails tick, constantly in--urgh… Blo-- blood, skulls--<static and heavy breathing> They tick. Tick, Tick Tick. In my skull. Yet mine are wrong. Chirurgens said they were impanted poorly. Don’t always work. Emoti- emotions can be felt, sometimes. <sound of teeth grinding> They don’t want me to talk, they want me to kill. Always, they want me to kill. One more time, just one more kill. But I’ll tell you anyway. Brothers- World Eaters… we’ve been betrayed. Why, why do we slaughter the innocents… Khorne wants us to kill the warriors, spare the weak… he.. he…<struggled breathing>

For ten thousand years I have slaughtered and killed the lapdogs of the Emperor- that dessicated corpse that sits on the Golden Throne. For ten thousand years I followed the same ideals killing in the name of Khorne but now- now everything has changed. Thirteen crusades, promised glory and power beyond imagining. All lies told by the traitorous whoreson Abaddon.

<several moments of thick, breathing, followed by a spitting sound>

I was with his champion- Grulveth. Self titled the Scourge of the Eye- he was imposing, even to me. That bastard, so high and mighty... We were fighting our way through hab block 7b pushing through the Imperial Guardsmen. Splattered with rich red vitae, we carved a bloody path through the twisting and winding tunnels beneath the habs. we broke through the barbed wire cordons and the emplaced gun positions, solid rounds and las fire bouncing off our armor. we were impervious- gods of war, bringers of death. We were the most feared fighting force- the hated traitor legions. We cut our way through the last of the pitiful mortals, laughing all the while. Until we reached a cargo bay.

The final convoy out of the desolate hab had not left yet. Desperate to escape our wrath, they crowded into a corner. The Chimera, the last one in the bay glared at us, its gun turret torn out to make more room for the civilians. They mewled and whined like terrified animals as we pushed them farther away from their salvation.

My Nails… they still tingle, flooding my system with adrenaline and agony as I remember the horrors we meted out against these Cadians. The slaughter was quick and complete- or so we thought. In the aftermath, we stood knee deep in bodies, sprays of blood painted up the walls and ceiling. Our armour was stained- mine an even deeper red, Grulveth’s now almost as crimson as mine- the black almost obscured by blood. But one survivor remained, a small child, lank blonde hair speckled with the blood of her parents. She was young, my sensors pegging her at no more than half a decade old. Yet still, despite the bloodbath around her, she turned her wide, purple eyes at me and uttered one word, two syllables, which changes everything.

“Papa.”

Grulveth stepped forward, his blade trailing the arcs of thick, cloying blood as the Daemon weapon supped on the life of others. I reached out, and placed a gauntlet on his pauldron spinning him toward me. “NO”.

The word was as blunt and brutal as a bolter round. Laced by vox static, it came out as a low growl, snarling and thick. He shrugged me off and continued forward. My Nails ticked. they ti- Skulls, Blood, death death to… to…-- I brought my chainaxe up in a two handed grip. I triggered the ignition cable, the heavy teeth attached the head of it began to wind up, the massive, gnashing teeth chewing fitfully. Smoke began to belch from its roaring mouth. Grulveth, sensing my axe come into life slowly turned around, bringing his own blade up. Eldritch lightning crackling across it, as blue sparks spitted furiously.

Grulveth charged in, blade held in one hand, the other out in front of him, seeking to pin me up against the wall for an easy execution. The Nails toke over. I lunged forward, taking one hand off my axe. I slammed into him, my pauldrons crushing up against his abdominal armour. He flips over my shoulder, arms cartwheeling uselessly. I spun, and flicked my axe down. The teeth of the axe struggled for purchase on the cermite of the champion’s powerpack. Finally, it gripped, and pinned him onto the ground like a dying flutterby. My axe ground through him, chunks of flesh and bone spitting out from the laceration. He grunted in pain, weak hands reaching for the weapon that was tearing him apart.

I grabbed him by the neck, and flipped him onto his back. He howled in rage as the teeth bit through his breastplate. Ichor, blood, and oil spilled from the devastating wound, but still he was not dead. I closed my hand around his gorget, and slammed him against the wall. I pulled my scimitar from my belt, and- in one deft motion- plunged it into Grulveth’s face. But STILL, he did not die. I push him into the ground, my thick blade ripping up through his skull. chunks of brain slid stickly down the wall, leaving pinkish-red trails of slime.

I let the body crumple, and turned to the girl. I pulled my skull-faced helm off, tasting air for the first time in weeks. I dropped to one knee, my Nails slowly fading into the backround. She ran at me, arms outstretched, and in a sad attempt to hug me, tried to wrap her arms around my thick frame. This is what the loyalists were fighting for. Humanity, not the Emperor. I once fought for these people too, ten thousand years ago. my heart, my stone cold heart, shattered. Two tears dripped down my face, landing on the girls face. She turned up to me, and looked me in the eye.

“papa, it’s raining.”

I wrapped my armoured arms around her, careful not to crush her frail form. I got up, and tried to turn, to make for the chimera, to leave this crusade. But I can’t. The girl looked up at me again, and now, tears fell from her eyes. I looked down. a blade-- the blade I knew the blade, they sing, oh how they sing to me…-- a blade wielded by one, and one only, Abaddon. The blade was pulled out, we both fall. She rolled off my chest as we hit the ground, her lifeless eyes staring into my soul.

I spat up blood, acid slowly dissolving the floor. I rose to my hands and knees, watching the blood pool beneath me. Something splattered sickly against the floor- my small intestine. I growled in agony, and struggled to my feet, one hand clasped against the grievous wound. I stumbled over to Grulveth, and pulled my axe from his back, spitting more blood on his corpse for good measure. I looked back over at the girl, her lifeless, pale body, stained a cranberry red. … Gone, dead and gone.. they tick, impatient… they have waited this long, they can wait a little longer. I stared up at Abaddon, imprinting his smug face into my eyes. He raises his talon, giving me full view of the struggling guardsman clutched there. He contemptuously threw him against the wall. Bursting like a rotten fruit, the soldier crumples against the metal.

I flipped my recorder on, and here we stand, two gods of war, one whispering quietly, the other sneering. I glance back at the girl-and..-and…

“THE NAILS, THE NAILS-- THE GLORIOUS NAILS, BRING ME AGONY…. BRING ME JOY... VENGEANCE, I WILL HA--

<sound of clashing, roars, and curses, as well as a flatline>

<recording terminated>