Forgotten Stories

The world of Syph seemed too normal, too unremarkable to be the correct location; yet the rumors pointed here. No orbitals or ships over the planet, and a scan of the land itself showed no signs of intelligent life. The world was full of life, a plethora of fauna and flora, occasionally blips of what might be ruins dotted the surface but no radio waves or any sign of even a feudal civilization. Tyberos dispatched the scouts to the different possible ruins, one team responded with a possible find. Hope was not something the Red Wake had felt in a long time, and now it rose unbidden; he squashed it and turned to depart the ship.

Planetside, Tyberos, the Pale Nomad, and the 3rd company met up with the scout squad just outside the ruins.

“Past the ruins into a cave. Bodies everywhere and there’s a man.”

Tyberos and the Nomad shared a look, the scout was not privy to the goal of this mission but the two leaders knew. Hope flared it’s head again.

“Surround the entrance, prepare defense points directed both in and out.” His voice was a hoarse whisper but the company leapt to action, as they worked Tyberos, the red brethren, the nomad, 2 epistolaries, and the two scouts walked into the cave mouth. Deeper in they travelled until light spilled from around a bend.

“He’s in there” A scout whispered.

The Nomad peaked around the corner, before him the tunnel opened up after a few yards into a large oval room. Torches sat on the wall and the room was littered with bodies, some old and some fresher. Some appeared to be eldar, a band of what looked like traitor marines, and yet others were bestial one as large as the elephants of old Terra. Sitting on a small 2 step platform leading up to double doors inlaid in gold was a human man, old with a gruff grey/white beard; he wore broken plate armor and had a sword leaning next to him. He stared at the ground as though lost in thought. Shrugging the group entered the room, the scouts fanning to either side with the epistolaries while the red brethren flanked their leaders; as they walked in the man looked up and sighed. He stood lifting the sword and spoke with a voice that carried the weariness of ages:

“Haven’t I killed enough of you? Leave now, back to whatever hell you crawled from.”

Tyberos spoke, the soft whisper of his voice easily carrying in the silent room “We are no hell spawn old man, we come seeking answers. We are not here to harm you.”

The man became enraged “You think I would believe you! That I would fall for your honeyed words again! For your impetus you shall die!” Tyberos blinked and the man was gone, the blade which now glowed a pale blue was inches from his neck stopped only by the Nomads force barrier. Tyberos was fast, easily the fastest warrior in the chapter and not even he followed this mysterious man as he spun around and lopped the head off of one of the red brethren and slashed the backpack of another. His sword carved through plate like it was a flak jacket. One of the epistolaries lashed out with a lance of psychic might, it slammed into the man and the armor glowed a faint blue. “Heh, you’re far weaker than the others they sent.” He clenched a fist and twisted quickly, the epistolary crumpled into himself and with a gesture was flung across the room. Now Tyberos had regained his bearings and swept in silent as death, twin claws slicing at the man, the ring of steel echoed in the chamber as he parried both claws. “You’re fast, better than your buddy.” The sword swept in a horizontal arc that Tyberos ducked under claws sliding upwards into the breastplate but they scraped off unable to find purchase, the force sending the man backwards where he skidded to a stop. “Don’t talk much though do you.” A flourish of bolt rounds came in, impacting a shield and exploding in the air around the man. Twin bolts of energy shot out of the smoke lashing into two more brethren, their armor locking up and sending them to the ground in a crash.

“Enough of this.” The Pale Nomad raised his arms and two sets of jaws sprung up in the air and clamped down on the man, biting deeper into him arms pinned to his sides. Though mighty the strength of the warp shark was too much for the old man and after several minutes of struggling he fell limp a sigh barely audible escaped his lips “I've...failed.”

“There,” The Nomad spoke “now let us see what lies beyond.” The remaining party began to gather themselves, the fallen brethren’s suits unlocking with the man's death. They started towards the door when the ground began to swell, and black ooze seeped quickly upwards forming tentacles and pools that swayed back and forth. A deep voice resonated through the chamber, laugher like that of a mocking puppeteer preceded it

“HAHAHA! Finally! After all these years. The fool’s soul is mine!” The ooze flooded towards the fallen body, completely ignoring the marines. One of the brethren swiped a claw through the liquid but it did not even slow the thing as it swirled around the body faster and faster until soaking into the ground, the body no more.

Unsure what just happened but with no threat showing itself Tyberos walked up to the doors and with a heave pulled them open. Within sat a golden pedestal with a sparkling blue orb set atop it, light seemed to radiate upwards through the pedestal and into the orb, the sparkles of the orb causing the domed ceiling to become covered in glittering specks. Few within the imperium would ever recognize what they were looking at, but these were the Carchardons. They had plied the stars of the void for decades long beyond the borders of the imperium and even beyond the ancient eldar empire; the Nomad saw it a moment after Tyberos but spoke in aw

“It’s a map. A system far beyond this place.”

Tyberos spoke quietly “This was meant for us.” He pointed to the pedestal. There inscribed in High Gothic was a single sentence: Let the Silent Hunters come and prove themselves.