He Who Walks the Path of the Damned

by StallionWithTheMetalHoof

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Dark
Length: 7156

Chaos has come to open the Gates of Tartarus. If it succeeds, the galaxy will fall to the will of the Runious Powers. Inquisitor Draxxus Alderbane must make a choice: fight for an alien race to save them from Chaos, or embrace its power.

The Inquisition has been betrayed. Chaos is spreading further across the galaxy faster than it can be contained. It seeks control over the Gates of Tartarus, a closed Warp Rift leading to power unimaginable. What the powers at work fail to realize, is that the gate is not unguarded. It is contained within a whole world, separated from reality. If Chaos has its way, this gate will be opened, and all worlds will be forced to bow to the Ruinous Powers. The lone Inquisitor Draxxus Alderbane is forced into the precarious position, of either fighting back the darkness, or assisting in the creation of a second Eye of Terror.

But he won’t be forced to do it alone. He’ll soon learn that having an extra helping hoof can be greater than any weapon.

On no, not another one. A fic I've wanted to write for a while, but never got around to doing. If there's anything wrong with the 40k lore, please let me know so I can fix it.

Edited by: Applechip
Proofread by: FenrisianBrony

Also, if you don't like it, PLEASE tell me why you didn't like it. Drax might be able to read minds, but I can't.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-06 03:20:02 UTC

Ch.1

If the Emperor has a plan for us all, then he’s an asshole. Why would a loving, all-knowing God-Emperor give someone powers that make others see them as a freak, to be ostracized by their peers and treated as less of a person? Or perhaps He merely puts them through hardship in order to make them stronger? Either way, I still got stuck with the short end of the stick.

Name’s Draxxus Alderbane, Inquisitor of the Holy Imperial Inquisition’s Ordos Malleus, but you can call me Drax. Though my service to the Emperor and the Inquisition has lead me across the galaxy and beyond, one adventure in particular stands out from the others; for it is quite possibly the strangest.

Our story begins aboard the Imperial frigate, Julius, where things had just taken a turn for the worst.

+++ 6515983.M41 +++

+++ Ultima Segmentum +++

+++ Edge of Imperial Space +++

Explosions rocked through the ship, making it sound like it was going to break in half at any moment. Bright red beams of light sailed over my head as the distinct POP, POP, POP of lasguns echoed throughout the hold, bouncing off the adamantine walls. The gothic style arches that held up the ceiling were inlaid with cast iron skulls. Small lights set at regular intervals along the wall cast the whole of the ship with dim yellow glow. The smell of incense and sacred oils wafted out of a nearby engine room and permeated the length of the hall.

If you were to take a look down the hallway lined with crates marked with the seal of the munitorum, you’d see a tall man oh-so-bravely taking cover behind a large metal crate marked ‘HIGH EXPLOSIVE’. Looking at him closer, you wouldn’t think in a million millennia that this man could be an Inquisitor. I’d gotten that comment a lot, and I guess it was... somewhat true. Most inquisitors dressed quite opulently, often flaunting their wealth and status with long flowing trench coats, high-quality carapace armor, and an ornate wide-brimmed hat. I, on the other hand, dressed like a pauper; often wearing fatigue pants that were once part of Imperial Guard uniforms, thick boots, a frayed leather belt, and a flimsy shirt. Three things that made me stand apart from the common farmer were my hat, my long coat, and my rosarius. My hat was wide-brimmed and made from tattered brown felt. On the front of the hat was sewn a capital letter ‘I’ with three short lines through the center of it, the symbol of the Imperial Inquisition. The thing is old and frayed, with several holes in the brim from the myriad of times I’d been shot at, but it belonged to my old master. The coat was just as old and ragged as the hat; it’s a drab green liner, also from the Guard, with several things painted on it in white. On the right shoulder was the insignia of the Cadian Imperial Guard, a triangular roof set on top of a pair of columns with a skull between them; on the right shoulder was the regimental number 118; and on the back was another larger insignia of the Inquisition. It was a gift from a friend of mine in the Imperial Guard, about a day before he was killed. Finally, my rosarius is a large medallion strung around my neck shaped like the insignia of the Inquisition with a skull in the middle of it.

I bet you’re probably wondering why I was being shot at. Well, both my acolytes and I were on our way to the feral world of Ysmalda Prime to investigate rumors of a large Tzeentch worshiping cult in the area that had made this planet their home base. Unfortunately, before we could get there, we got attacked by a band of pirates. It happened while we came out of the Warp in order to fix a malfunction with the Gellar-field generator. While this area of space was known to be a breeding ground for pirates, we thought they wouldn’t dare attack a ship marked with the seal of the Inquisition. For our retribution is often swift and merciless to any who dare cross us.

I was down in the armory when the first strike hit, meditating in the one place I could find peace and quiet. Boarding torpedoes hammered into the side of the hull, interrupting any and all hope of a peaceful meditation. I tried using the ship’s vox system, but only received an earful of static for my trouble. When I attempted to contact my acolytes through my wrist mounted vox-bead, I received static once more, leading me to the conclusion that the pirates had some sort of jamming device. I began to head back up towards bridge when bursts of las fire drove me away from the stairs. In a panic, I lept behind the nearest crate and laid low, praying to the Emperor for some kind of idea. The immediate thing I noticed was that these were no ragtag group of pirates. The bursts of fire from their guns were frequent enough and had a distinct pattern to them, practiced fire that you could only get through formal training.

As such I was stuck behind those crates, their rate of fire keeping me pinned. The bursts of las fire were so frequent that even peaking around the corner would more than likely get my head blown off. Fortunately for me, I don’t always need a weapon to fight back. I concentrated hard as I reached out into the Warp using my mind, enhancing my senses a thousand fold. I heard the thoughts going through their minds, the individual clanking parts of their lasguns, the smell of their old, dirty armor, the aftershave one has on. I felt their feet on the floor and the recoil of their weapons. I could see the bright shine of their souls against the slightly purple haze that surrounded them.

I took a closer look at my assailants, searching for something I could work with. There were seven of them, all wearing flak armor and armed with lasguns and autoguns; not particularly potent considering the Imperial standard of equipment, but more than enough to riddle an unwary fool full of holes. That and the fact that I was only armed with a force sword, staff, and what might as well be a cloth t-shirt, meant that charging them would be a real bad idea.

However, I managed to catch a rare stroke of luck. In my search, I found that the pirate on the far left was carrying several frag grenades on his belt. With a little bit of telekinesis, I pulled the pin out of one of the grenades and just waited for the magic to happen, a small but wicked smile spreading across my face. Sure enough, a few seconds later, it detonated, setting off the rest of the grenades and blowing the poor guy they were attached to into meaty chunks. The flying shrapnel also killed two more of the pirate’s brethren and wounded a third, but only enough to make it so he couldn’t run.

I’m what’s called a psyker, a human who can use their mind to perform incredible feats. That little bit of telekinesis was only a mere fraction of most psykers are capable of. Unfortunately, we’re also the most vulnerable to the perils of the Warp, an alternate dimension where the rules of reality don’t apply and daemons roam free in service to the Ruinous Powers. Our minds are forever linked to this place, and as such, we’re mostly despised by the wider Imperium. And since I had just given away my true nature, the pirates were ever more determined to kill me.

“The Inquisitor, he’s a psyker,” I heard one of them shout.

“Don’t think, you fool, he can read our minds!” another responded

I figured it was time to end this little game of cat and mouse before they called in reinforcements, but couldn’t do that with them firing at me. While I could easily yank their lasguns out of their hands or give them all aneurysms, I decided to do something a little more fun. Reaching out to the four still alive, I place a little… suggestion in their heads.

Turn around.

As one, they whip around, bringing their weapons to bear against a solid metal wall. I immediately jump out from my hiding place, bringing my wooden staff to bear. Of the myriad of weapons I usually carry on me, my staff, which looks like nothing more than an old tree branch, is the most important. It’s a hollow metal pipe filled with focusing crystals, fitted with wood on the outside to hide its true purpose, save for the small Aquila medal hanging from a leather cord tied near the top. Lightning arced from my staff and into their backs, making them writhe and twitch. A few seconds later, they fell to the ground dead, their hearts stopped by the massive amount of electricity I had just pumped into them.

As I stood over the bodies of the men who attempted to gun me down, I, unfortunately, didn’t see the guy sneaking up behind me. Before I knew it, a giant shadow was looming over me, hot breath blasted against the back of my neck, and a low throaty growl echoed not only through the hall, but through my mind as well. I knew that even with my psyker abilities, it was already far too late for me to do anything.

Before the Sword of Damocles could fall however, a deafening snarl overpowered all other sounds as a truly massive example of a dog simply appeared from some shadowy corner. The mountain of a man that had managed to sneak up on me, swiftly became much less threatening as the creature ran him down like a bulldozer toppling a sapling. The pirate’s terrified screams and cries of “Get it off me!” were abruptly silenced as my savior violently tore out his throat with its teeth.

Now I’m no shrimp by any means. I stand around 5’10 or so and am well built considering my profession, but that thing very nearly matched my height; from the floor to the top of its head anyway. Its eyes were level with the bridge of my nose. If we were measuring by body length, then I severely doubted there was a man alive that could match it. Its thick, leathery skin was a dark charcoal black, and its reptilian eyes glowed like hot coals. While its body was shaped like a hound, its front legs were as thick as the barrel of a missile launcher. A series of glowing orange vents lined its neck, three on either side, and constantly emitted steam. Atop its reptilian head was a large, bony crest shaped like a series of spins, almost making the creature look like it had horns. Many of its sharp teeth protruded from its lower jaw, including two very large fangs near its nostrils. Around its neck, hung from a length pink ribbon, was a medallion with the seal of the Inquisition on one side and the name Helga engraved on the other side. The creature turned its head towards me, its snout still covered in blood, and let out a satisfied snort.

“Good girl,” I praised the creature, pulling a face like I was swooning over a wide-eyed puppy and not an Inquisition sanctioned weapon. “Where’s Molly?”

My answer came in form of screams from down the hallway behind me.

“Monster!”

“Kill it! Kill it!”

The discharge of multiple lasguns and autogun fire were silenced after a moment later, with accompanying snarls and ripping sounds similar to the those made by Helga. A few seconds after that, and another one of the black skinned creatures came bouncing down the hallway, covered in blood and what could only be described as a carefree smile on its face.

This creature was a little shorter than Helga and had a set of four extra vents near its hindquarters. Its crest was also more rounded and smooth, creating an almost perfect dome shape. It had fewer teeth protruding from its lower jaw than Helga, and its tongue was happily lolling out of its mouth upon spotting us. Around its neck, hanging from a green ribbon, was a medallion like Helga’s.

The creature comes charging up to me and almost head-butts me to the floor. It almost immediately began to nuzzle energetically against my stomach, leaving my shirt covered in blood.

“Easy girl, easy,” I say to her as I scratch behind her crest, prompting me to chuckle a bit as she nuzzled me even harder, “I wasn’t gone for that long, you big baby.” Helga finally snapped at Molly, making her jump back and yelp a bit. “Hey, be nice,” I scolded Helga.

             My two girls, Molly and Helga, are called Flintmaws. They come from the world of Pele’, over in the Peleregon Cluster. The locals have been known to train Flintmaws as companions, though never more than one at a time. They’re fearsome predators and extremely territorial, but if you get one to trust and respect you, and give it the same in return, they’ll follow you to the ends of the galaxy and beyond. I was the proud “parent” of two.

             Any further acts of affection were cut short as the thundering boots of several more pirates echoed down the hall. If the explosions and screams of terror weren’t enough to get their attention, the trail of destruction left by my girls most likely was. That alone must have painted a giant target on my head, so to speak. There were two hallways leading away from the armory, and even though the dim lighting made it hard to see, my senses had identified that no matter which way I went, I would still have to fight through a horde of enemies.

             Unfortunately, my train of thought was suddenly derailed by a smug, slimy, slithering voice piping up from some dark corner of my mind.

My, my, my, we’re in quite the pickle now, aren’t we?

I turned back towards the armory to see a rather ominous looking sword leaning against the back wall. It was a large broadsword, about four and a half feet in length, in a leather scabbard with silver trim. The hilt was in a cross hilt style with malicious looking hooks on the ends of cross guards. Set in the center of the hilt was a jewel shaped like a bloodshot eye, with yellow replacing the white and the iris a dark crimson. Once in a while the eye would move and would even blink sometimes. The entire sword had an aura of uncertainty; it looked like a powerful weapon, that while wielding it you’d be unstoppable. However, you’d find that power like that came with a price, that when you picked up that sword, you’d never be the same.

That sword was no ordinary sword, for though it may look plain to the untrained eye, it contained a daemon bound within it. His name was Unslaad Yol, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wouldn’t even be telling this story without him. When I originally took him up, almost six years ago, I was attempting to try and save my former master, the Inquisitor Darius Carver. Tried, and failed. The only person that ever cared for me and treated me like an actual human being was gone, and for my efforts, I got stuck with a tainted artifact of chaos. Don’t get me wrong, he’s gotten me out of a few sticky situations, but a daemon is still a daemon, a twisted, vile thing that sought to use me as its plaything, and then toss me aside once I was no longer needed.

I was less than thrilled to see him sitting (or in his case, leaning) against the wall, a fact I made quite clear to him.

I thought I told you to stay in my room, I mentally bite back at the possessed blade.

And leave you completely defenseless? I could practically see the smug grin on the daemon’s face. What kind of friend would I be if I allowed such a thing to happen?

We. Are not. Friends. I gave the inanimate sword a venomous glare. You’re nothing more than another tool in my arsenal; and when I finally get the chance, I’ll banish you back to whatever hell pit spawned you and melt your cursed blade into molten slag.

Then why haven’t you? You’ve had plenty of chances, and yet all of them, you’ve either refused or were too late. Perhaps you enjoy my company, you enjoy the power I give you. Admit it, you can’t let go because you simply can’t live without me.

Another loud Boom shook the ship and almost knocked me off my feet. After recovering, Unslaad Yol decided to grace my mind with his slimy voice once more.

While I would love to continue this conversation, it seems you’re about to have company, and a lot of it. I suggest you prepare yourself for a fight.

Brilliant deduction, Sherlock, I growled in the back of my mind.

~I heard that.~

I ignored him and set to the task of raiding the armory. Molly and Helga stood guard as I geared up. I grabbed a hot shot lasgun, a more powered up version of your standard everyday lasgun, and a small autopistol. I made sure I had everything, including Unslaad Yol who I (reluctantly) slung across my back on a leather strap. I also made sure I had possibly my favorite weapon in my arsenal, Maria. A force sword designed to look like a basket hilted saber, a sword with a slightly curved single edged blade and a hilt meant to guard the hand wielding it, Maria was more than just a sword, she was a bond. A gift from a secretive order of assassin’s known only as the Brotherhood. I was, more or less, an official member after I saved their grand master from being turned into a cannibalistic tribe’s dinner. As thanks, he let me pick one weapon from his personal armory, and so I chose Maria. An ancient force sword, but no less elegantly crafted. The wires had been cleverly concealed in the basket hilt to look like part of the design and the power core was in the handle. The hilt had been carved out of one piece of metal, creating wavy designs with the Brotherhood’s insignia set in the center: a triangle with a dome shaped bottom and two spikes jutting out from the edges of the dome.

I quickly adjusted my hat and headed out the armory, choosing to take the hall to the right, with Molly and Helga following quickly behind me. My psychic senses had identified pirates coming from both ends of the hallway. The ones coming down the stairs to my right were ultimately a lot closer and there were fewer than the ones coming from the left. Since fighting through all of them would more than likely get myself and both my Flintmaws killed, I decided to go with my other favorite option: scare tactics. I ignited the end of my staff in green Warpfire and made my eyes glow the same color. Molly and Helga caught on to what I was doing and began to growl threateningly.

I charged up the stairs, flailing my “burning” staff around wildly, cackling like a mad man, and with my girls right behind me, looking ready to pounce on anything that moved. Every one of those pirates, even one hauling a heavy stubber, froze in their tracks and just stared at me in complete dumbfounded surprize, as if unsure if they should gun me down or flee in terror. As a final note, I let them have a taste of my power by shouting out a threat that not only echoed throughout the hallway, but their minds as well.

“Yes, come and face me! I will set your souls ablaze and cast them into the abyss!”

That had done the trick.

They all shot each other shocked glances, and then practically climbed over each other to get out of my way. All the while I laughed like a maniac and that laughter echoed in their skulls. Once they were out of sight, I let the flame on my staff die and my eyes return to normal, making Molly and Helga calm down as well. Though I had a slight headache, I felt fine. Normally, Imperial psykers favored practicality over flashy effects, but I liked to keep the knowledge of what I was my own little secret for as long as I could. When it finally did come out, I usually either played mind games with whoever guessed it or I put on a show like I just did. It sent a little message to any who would perceive me as a threat, a message that said, “This man is extremely powerful and could probably kill you with nothing more than a stray thought. Don’t mess with him.”

Impressive, Unslaad Yol offered, though it probably would have gone over better if you had let me intervene.

And what, dare I ask, could you have possibly done better, I asked the Warp spawned fiend with annoyance.

I would have had them writhing on the ground in absolute panic, it would have been just grand.

True, but then again, I don’t trust you and you probably would have tried to possess my arm… again.

The daemon was silent for a moment before responding, his voice almost seeming to catch in his throat (well, if he had one). Touché.

After he fell silent again, I figured I try and find the captain to see if we could straighten this mess out. While the lifts were out, the small ship didn’t have that many decks, so reaching the helm via stairs wouldn’t take me that long, even if I ran into opposition.

Well, I say to myself, let’s get climbing, shall we?

The walk up to the helm didn’t take that long. I ran into a few pirates, but they were easily taken down either by my powers, my lasgun, or just sending my girls after them. On my way, I passed by several windows, through which I could get a good view of the pirate ship. It was an old, rusty, piece of metal patchwork that was once an Imperial frigate. Upon closer inspection I saw that not only had the ship fired boarding torpedoes at us, but it had secured itself directly to the Julius with crude grappling hooks and was slowly pulling itself towards us. But the one feature about the ship that made it stand out the most was the plow shaped prow. Most Imperial ships of recent years had that particular prow, but in its place was a fearsome dragon head. The ship itself seemed somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place it at the time.

After taking down a small group of pirates, by tricking them into thinking their brethren had spontaneously morphed into rabid animals and letting them go from there, I finally reached a large set of double doors at the end of the staircase. The doors bore the Imperial Aquila and the Imperial Navy’s motto, in high gothic of course, etched into it.

“Finally,” I mutter as a human skull set into the wall scans my face with its mechanical eye. The doors open a second later, revealing the captain with a look of horror on his face. Despite his usual insistence on addressing me as his “lord” and fawning over my every need, he stood perfectly still in the doorway.

“Uh… captain?”

I received no response, his eyes didn’t even blink. He fell forward a second later, revealing a large stab wound in his back, just below his neck. It was still bleeding quite profusely, staining his blue coat red.

I look up from the captain's body, and, too my complete and utter surprise, there standing directly where the captain was only a moment ago was someone I hoped I wouldn’t run into on this little adventure. He was about as tall as me and quite thinly built. He was dressed in a maroon shirt with slashed sleeves, the slashes dyed blue. Around his waist was a brown sash that held a holster full of throwing knives, a cutlass, and a pair of autopistols. He also wore a fine pair of tall leather boots with gold wing tips, more than likely stolen. Draped across his shoulders was a blue Imperial Naval officer’s coat, secured around his neck by a small length of gold chain. The coat itself was quite old and faded, with numerous holes and tears within it, and a few multicolored patches had been stitched on over some of the larger holes. His face made his age to be about 30 or so. He sported a short brown beard and his shoulder length hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. He was cleaning what was more than likely the captain’s blood off the cutlass he held in his hand with a small rag.

His green eyes lit up as he spotted me and a small smile played across his lips. “Well, now isn’t this a surprise? When I heard that there was an Inquisitor on board who was not only a psyker, but had a pair of pet monsters as well; I thought to myself, ‘no, it couldn’t be’. But it is! My old friend Drax. Good to see you again, m’boy.”

While this man was no doubt the captain of the pirates, he was also an old… acquaintance of mine. His name was Viktor Oleg, captain of the pirate vessel Fiery Dragon. He was a well-educated man with a flair for the dramatic, always wanting to put on a show. He originally came from a wealthy Rogue Trader family, but had forsaken it for what he considered, in his own words, “a much more exciting and profitable enterprise.” He still kept his family’s Warrant of Trade, but for all intensive purposes, he’d become a pirate. I had hired his services several times before, and while he was an honorable gentleman, he was still a pirate. But the reason why his presence here surprised me is that, according to an account by a naval officer up in the Segmentum Obscurus, the Fiery Dragon was last seen heading towards the Halo Stars.

“Hello Viktor,” I reply with a scowl, “never thought I’d be having you as my enemy any time soon.”

He smiles slightly and shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You should know better than anyone, dear boy, that no matter how many Thrones you offer, no matter what new weapons or technology you wave in their faces, and no matter how much plunder you promise them, a pirate’s loyalties lie with no one but themselves. Still, seeing as you are my friend, I’ll allow you to go free once this is all over. Let us not end this in bloodshed, shall we? Besides, you are outnumbered.”

All at once, pirates surrounded the three of us, wielding everything from lasguns, to autoguns, to even what looked like Eldar weaponry. I knew they were coming, my senses pointed them out long before I could see them, but the revelation of their captain’s identity shocked me into inaction. I had a feeling that I might meet up with the pirate captain, and initially planned to have Molly and Helga eat them. Call me crazy, but, even though he was a rogue, Viktor Oleg was a good man, and I wouldn’t have his death be so… undignified.

I placed my hand on Maria and looked Viktor straight in the eye, giving him a devious smirk. “Vik, I respect you. You’re a good man and a fine pirate. You’ve helped me through plenty a nasty situation; but you, out of all my acquaintances, should know one thing very clearly.” On that last line, I drew Maria from her scabbard and pointed her at Viktor’s nose. “It’s that I don’t go down without a fight.”

He returns my smirk with one of his own. “I would expect no less.”

I dropped all my other weapons, save for Unslaad Yol, and he does the same save for the other cutlass in his belt. I also commanded my girls to sit on the sidelines with pirates, who had just finished forming a large sparring circle around Viktor and me. I could see many of the pirates placing bets as well; everything from Thrones, to little pieces of jewelry, I even saw a few of them bet their guns. I prepare a suitable fighting stance, with my legs apart, my knees bent, and Maria up defending my chest.

The first time I had employed Viktor’s services, about three years back, he taught me how to swordfight properly. It was mostly because my swordplay needed work, or in his words, “you fight like a drunken Ogryn wielding a butter knife.” He was still infinitely better, but I could at least hold my own in a fight if I ever crossed swords with anyone.

We start by crossing blades, and then have at it. I immediately go on the offensive, jabbing and thrusting my blade at Viktor’s heart. My strikes met with naught but air as Viktor effortlessly parried every single one of my blows. He sidestepped a particularly large open swing of mine and responded by shoving the palm of his hand in my ribs and forcing me to the ground. I rolled over onto my back to evade a strike that would have probably taken my head off and jumped to my feet. All around us, the pirates had begun to either cheer one of us on, or jeer at the other. It might have been distracting for some, but it just filled me with more adrenaline.

Viktor went on the offensive after I got up, taking advantage of my guard being down for a few precious seconds. He let loose blow after blow of frenzied steel on me. Each attack, while weak, struck with the speed and precision of greased lightning. I only barely managed to keep up with the speed of his strikes. With each clash of steel, the edge of his blade got a little closer to my flesh.

Eventually, he overextended himself, and I saw an opportunity I wouldn’t be likely to get again. Just as he withdrew to wind up another strike, I rushed forward and managed to lock swords with him. With a good yank, I rip the sword from his hands and deliver a heavy kick to his stomach. He doubled over in pain for a second with one hand clutching at his stomach.

As I moved forward to bring down my blade and separate his head from his shoulders, the snake struck out at me. My legs abruptly disappeared from under me and I fell ingloriously to my ass. Viktor released the boot he grabbed to trip me, and rolled over to grab his dropped weapon. Before I could get back up, Viktor was already charging at me, his sword raised. I only barely managed to bring my blade up in time to intercept his, and then was forced to hold it there as Viktor just leaned into his sword. I was forced into a contest of strength and leverage, and I was at a major disadvantage.

He smiled widely and, for some reason, backed away. Viktor stepped away from me and very calmly paced a small circle, all the while wearing a wide smile and chuckling under his breath. I was so dumbstruck processing this behavior, that Helga had to come forward and bodily lift me to my feet by grabbing the back of my coat.

“I see someone hasn’t been practicing,” Viktor said mockingly as he twirled his cutlass in his hand, “I’ve already knocked you to the ground and could have just ended you, dear boy. I too value our past together, so as a proper gentleman, I will offer my pardon once more. Surrender, and I will let you and your acolytes go free. Do you accept, or would you rather pursue this fracas to its final stupidity?”

I’ll admit, his offer sounded tempting. He was right in saying I was out of practice, and if I kept going I’d probably end up getting myself killed. Unfortunately, I knew Viktor was a man of his word, and only his word. He would let us go free, but would more than likely leave us stranded, or in more dangerous company than his. If the rest of the ship was anything to judge by, our Navigator and Astropath, specialized psykers necessary for inter-system space travel and communication, were likely decaying somewhere. Without them, we had no way to get back to civilization and we’d be stuck in the never ending soul-sucking darkness of space. If I took Viktor’s deal, the best case scenario would leave me and my men stranded here. I didn’t want to kill Viktor, yet if I had to, I would. I couldn’t back down, I wouldn’t back down.

I took off my coat and let it drop to the floor, still making sure Unslaad Yol was slung across my back. I telekinetically summoned my staff to left hand and got back into a fighting stance.

Viktor smiled and unhooked his coat from around his neck. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he quipped, then drew his second cutlass, leaving him with a blade in each hand.

We began to go at each other again, much more furiously than before. While my staff had a longer reach, Viktor had an extra cutlass and faster reflexes. Every strike either of us made was parried by the other, and while I was able to cut him on his arm a bit and him my leg, neither of us gained the upper hand. When we broke off for third time, I started to think a bit. I couldn’t let this go on forever, I could already feel my muscles burning with fatigue, while Viktor looked like he was having the time of his life. His smile was wider than ever and a manic gleam shone in his eye, he wasn’t even breathing all that hard. I knew eventually, either Viktor would wear me out, or the pirates would get bored and intervene. I needed to end this, now.

So in order to beat a pirate, I had to fight like a pirate. I extended my senses once more, reaching out to the pirates surrounding Viktor and me, taking care not to include Molly and Helga.

Let’s see how you all deal with a sudden splitting headache.

With a whispered thought and a surge of power, all of the pirates dropped to the floor, clutching their heads in pain. “What in the-,” was all Viktor was able to say before I telekinetically blasted him back into the wall behind him, several feet behind him. The blow didn’t kill him, yet it was hard enough to knock him unconscious. I grabbed the rest of my things off the floor and raced into bridge, whistling for Molly and Helga as I went. After Helga nearly knocked me over squeezing through the door, followed closely by Molly proudly carrying a pirate’s boot like a trophy, I shut the heavy pieces of plasteel with telekinesis. Using the hot shot lasgun I was carrying, I destroyed the servo skull controlling the door’s mechanisms.

Great job, genius , Unslaad Yol droned sarcastically, you’ve locked us in the bridge with a horde of angry pirates’ right outside. Talk about kicking the hornet's nest. So, how do you propose we get out of this one, hmm?

I… have no idea.

I could practically feel the daemon’s annoyed glare boring into the back of my skull. So, let me get this straight: you gave all those pirates a massive headache and threw their captain against the wall just so you could run into the bridge and seal us all inside with absolutely no idea what you are going to do next? Exactly how hard did you hit your head when Viktor knocked you down?

I panicked, okay! I’ll figure something out, just give me few minutes.

The bridge had a large set of windows, and I could see the Fiery Dragon anchored to the starboard side of the Julius. The ship was close enough that I could probably touch it, which in turn gave me an idea; a potentially horrible idea, but an idea nonetheless. I gathered up all the Warp energy I could muster, praying to the Emperor to let this work and that I wouldn’t end up as a pile of unidentifiable red goo floating in space.

Wait, what are you doing?! Unslaad Yol whispered frantically, catching on to what I was about to attempt.

Something stupid.

I extended my senses and reached out towards the Fiery Dragon’s bridge, preparing to make a teleport jump that could end up just as well shooting us all out into space.

But before I could make the jump, my senses were overwhelmed by some outside force, forcing enormous amounts of psychic torment onto my mind. My vision swirled and distorted so much I couldn’t even tell if I was on the ship anymore. All I could see was a swirling mass of color, and soon enough, monstrous faces formed from the mass. Leering faces with glowing red eyes and mouths full of sharp teeth. They’re whispering voices promised power, glory, the slaughter of my enemies. Visions of blood and fire came to mind, threatening to drive me mad. I doubled over in pain and fell on my knees, clenching my eyes shut to block out the visions. I covered my ears, but I could still hear the whispers in my head. I began to chant a mantra, one I developed as a kid to help me keep my sanity if anything from the Warp threatened to feed off my burgeoning psyker abilities.

“I’m not afraid of monsters anymore. I’m not afraid of monsters anymore. I’m not afraid of monsters anymore. I’m not afraid of monsters anymore.”

The pain in my head soon became unbearable. My ears rang and I began feeling lightheaded, the monstrous faces and distorted swirling colors disappeared as my vision turned white. The last thing I saw was a gaunt, frail looking man in a set of deep purple robes. His hair was long yet thin, and as grey as rain laden clouds. His face was almost skeletal in nature, with sunken eyes and a small, upturned nose. His dry, cracked lips peeled back in a grin full of malice that revealed his pointy teeth. He turned his sunken eyes on me and in a voice as thick as mud, uttered a single word that reverberated through my skull, “Sleep.”

I blacked out a moment later.

Canterlot at night was perhaps the most wonderful place to get a good view of the stars, according to Princess Luna of course. She had put a lot of work into the sky that night; all the major constellations were out, the full moon shone bright, and a virtual river of stars arcing over the land finished off the gorgeous scene.

Down below, the street lamps gave off a soft, comforting glow, making those that traversed the city in the cool of night feel safe and secure. While the streets were less crowded, night did not necessarily put an end to ponies activities. Theaters were packed with ponies, waiting to see the latest show or play. Taverns and bars would be open to any and all seeking a good drink and fine company. Lovers would walk in the moonlight, sharing each others’ compassion, and then head home for a little fun. Inns would be accepting visitors, giving them a place to sleep until morning came.

Princess Luna could see it all from the balcony of her observatory. Set in the palace’s highest tower, it ensured not only privacy for the princess of the night, but was high enough to block out any kind of light pollution from the city below. Yet, the sky did not yield much that night, so she turned her attention back towards the earth, at least for a little while. For now she would watch her subjects go about their lives, admiring her glorious night.

But suddenly, Luna’s attention was turned back to the stars by a slight tugging sensation in the back of her mind. She snapped her head upwards, scanning the sky for what might have caused the disturbance. Her eyes fell across a small spot of the night sky, where it seemed to be… stretching? For it was like the sky was made of cloth, and something was attempting to tear it apart. She reached out to try and fix the anomaly, but was only met with unbearable pain, as if something had pulled her horn out of her skull. A few moments later, what could only be described as a large hole opened up in the anomaly, accompanied by a sound like cloth ripping that echoed through Luna’s mind. It expelled two large objects, and then sealed itself once more as if nothing had even occurred in the first place.

The two objects initially seemed to be attached to each other, but broke apart seconds later. Shaking herself out of her dumbfounded stupor, Princess Luna raced to the large telescope in the center of the observatory. She could only locate one of the objects, but what it was filled her with dread. A long, box like object adorned with spires, some that even seemed taller than the observatory. What looked like a snow plow was at the head of the object, and at the end was a series of large cylinders in which the ends glowed like hot coals. Any further details were obscured as the craft burst into flames and it plummeted towards the ground.

She quickly raced to the ornate double doors at the opposite end of the observatory and practically kicked them open, nearly giving the guard standing by a heart attack.

“You,” she shouted, almost slipping into the Royal Canterlot Voice, “awaken Our sister and bring her to Us. Tell her it is of grave importance. Go!”

With a quick, “Yes, m’lady”, he raced down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own hooves on the way down.

Luna trotted back over the balcony, a look of worry on her face as she watched twin fireballs fall like wounded birds towards the earth.