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The Eye of Terror: The Labyrinthine Depths of Chaos (Part I)

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Veldanya Venalla:
As the the massive form of Jharm sits on the ground meditating, his mental form attends a meeting elsewhere in the multiverse.

The scene is of a massive room, the walls crafted of fine pure white marble with massive marble columns holding up a ceiling only barely visible.  There are braziers positioned at each column, but within them are orbs of white light instead of normal fires, illuminating the area far better then any mundane flame could.  The most amazing scene though is what is at the far end of the room.  Jharm can be seen standing before a raised dais with 3 pulpits on it.  Standing behind the pulpits are 3 large (even compared to Jharm) figures, wearing pure white robes.  On the front of each pulpit a word is written....truth, honor, and justice (from left to right).

[Truth]: Greetings High Seraphim of the Light.  It has been long since we have spoken.  (The voice reveals Truth to be of female gender)

"I apologize, things have progressed at incredible speed...the one known as Abaddon the Despoiler has been slain."

[Truth]:  Yes,  you have done much for the innocence of the multiverse this day.

The figure standing behind the pulpit marked Justice raises a rand from within its robes, revealing a hand covered in a finely crafted gauntlet crafted of pure white metal with fine golden etchings on it, the gold almost radiating a soft glowing light)

[Justice]:  Now is not the time to pat ourselves on the back and relax.  You have served the Light with great honor Seraphim Jharm, but there is still much evil present.  The legions of Chaos still rage throughout this "Eye of Terror" and what of this "Labyrinth" that you're companion spoke of? (The voice booms in a loud masculine voice, the sound almost echoing off the far walls)

"Unfortunately it would seem you know as much as I do great Council.  I do fear that whatever may lay within will test me and my companions even more then the Despoiler did."

[Honor]:  A test we all feel you will meet and conquer Jharm.  Remember, even in the darkest, most horrific of places the Light still exists and will still come to aid those that do battle to protect the weak and mild. (The voice rings out, sounding both gentle but strong)

Jharm places the head of his massive hammer onto the ground and kneels down as the three figures raise their gauntleted hand and beging to chant, a white glowing forming around their hands and then transfering over to the angellic guardian.

[All three]:  Now go High Seraphim of the Light.  May Truth, Honor, and Justice follow you wherever you go.

With that all 3 figures vanish in a flash of white light, leaving the Seraphim alone until he fades away shortly after, returning to his physical form once more

As his essence re-enters his form, the Seraphim's eyes open up, glowing a soft white light, revealing that he is once again at full strength.  Standing up and hefting his massive hammer onto his shoulder Jharm raises his left hand into the air and places a blessing on his companions, meant to strengthen their resolve in battle and fortify the mind.  He then walks over to Kalana and places his massive gauntleted hand gently on her shoulder.

"Fear not mi'lady.  For the Light is with all of us and shall aid us in defeating whatever horrors we may face within."

Kitharsis:
Kitharsis glances down at Kalana.  Thirty minutes she said.  Not nearly enough time, but it will do.  The Tirthandara gives a nod to Danyael as he leaps out of the rising forcefield.  A shower of sand follows behind him as he lands heavily on the ground.

"Thank you, Kalana.  This rest is much appreciated."

He sits on the ground and closes his eyes.  The spark of pure energy inside him flares to life as he concentrates on purifying the vast darkness within him.  White light shines out of the corners of his closed eyes, and the numerous tattoos on his body faintly shimmer with white energy.

The composure of his inner self quickly builds like a young storm.  Strands of white swirl around a central point building in thickness and speed.  As time has gone by he has become increasingly more efficient at the purification process.  Soon a mass of pure energy is building within him.  The air around the peaceful warrior becomes more crisp and dry, and a warm breeze tugs at his mohawk.  The tattoos on his body glow brightly with white light.  The many wounds he has accrued in battle follow suit and glow even more brightly.

The skull tattoo on his arm flashes and a tiny skeleton crawls out of it.  It flashes multiple times, and soon a small army of skeletons are crawling over his body.  They place their little hands on the numerous wounds on his flesh.  As they do so their bodies glow with increasing intensity until they vanish in a flash and a pop.  The wound they were standing over heals slightly with each skeleton, and soon his skin is as smooth and unbroken as before.  He still wears the scars from his wounds, they will fade with time.  But there is no more danger from his energy leaking out of the cracks in his body. 

As this is all happening he is still focusing on the darkness inside him, purifying the limitless energy he is so strangely tied to.  He knows that he won't be able to create enough of a reserve to weather the upcoming trials he and his companions are going to encounter. 

Fumbling through the many pouches on his belt, he finally finds the charm he was looking for.  It is a piece of bone with numerous runes carved into it.  Holding it in his left hand, a lazy strand of energy travels from the circle on his palm into the charm.  The runes blink one by one with pings of light, until the charm goes dormant again. 

He doesn't know how Kalana's manipulation of time would effect the power of the runes.  Opening one white glowing eye, he cocks his head and looks into the sky above him.  Shrugging, he closes his eye once again and returns the entirety of his attention to meditating.

Danyael:
Everything felt so distant; and yet still more familiar than foreign. He had spent countless ages lost within the Warp, and still amidst his newly found friends, he still felt so very lost in time - both in and out of his appropriate place, wherever/whatever that may be. He felt the rise and fall of the streams of turmoil beneath him as the ebb and flow of spectral energies coated his sight. So high did the sphere rise that the defeat of Abbadon (what little part he didn’t play in making it so) felt as little more than a distant memory.

And then, suddenly, he felt the energies of those within the sphere begin to move out of sight, one by one. He watched their auras blend their the veil of the sphere, drifting to some unforseen sanctuary below. He watched as Garr was the first to descend. It puzzled Danyael how the Elemental could just ‘phase’ through a barrier compiled of energies constructed by the wellspring itself. Perhaps there was a chink in the ethereal armor he’d toiled away in making to protect them. He dabbled on the thought no longer, as the young sorceress, who’s name he never knew, was next to descend. And then his friend, poor Kith. At first, he felt as if he’d failed them in some way, unbeknownst to the sensation of new energies rippling outside the barrier.

He looked around to notice a dome of swirling ether, halting the ascension of the barrier just before contact. With the limp Kari gripped securely in his arms, the ascension reversed and he followed his companions back down to the Eidolon Wastelands. The sphere peeled away at itself until the Nephilim Lord and the Water Elemental stood alone in the sky. He touched down softly, quickly enough not to linger and yet carefully enough not to jostle the elemental. The poor girl had been through enough trauma already. Noticing his partial distance between him and his friends, he makes his way over, slowing to cross by Kith, offering a nod and a kindly smile, referencing their exchange of thoughts of Danyael’s prior assurance that he would never stop protecting Kith. His friend would always be first amidst his many priorities.

Without a sound, he made his way to the elementals, giving an additional nod of recognition to the Seraphim before he offered Kari, still wrapped comfortably in his cloak, to Garr. There was nothing to say. There was nothing worth saying. The fact that the girl lived was what he cared about most. He remembered that the elementals didn’t trust him. He knew the possibility that his behavior at first meeting was not the best of first impressions. Perhaps he would redeem himself in their eyes. Perhaps he wouldn’t. But at least the girl that tried to save him, unneeded as her help was however, was alive. At least he could return the favor to her.  He remembered the one who erected the time bubble mention that the companions had half an hour to rest. More than I need... he thought with a half smile after turning from them and walking away. Still in silence, he walked on, each step acting as a moment in time for him, rebuilding what he had lost from the previous battle, feeding from the warp energies, condensing them to such a degree as his body began to conduct the invisible forces around him. He drank of the energies in silence, replenishing what was expended with intense alacrity. Looking for a familiar face, as he left the connection to the wellspring open, he walked past Faidth, patting her gingerly on her shoulder before finally settling down in meditative sitting a yard away from Kith.

Another fine mess, he thought, treating himself to a chortle before returning to stern quietude.  A soft exhale brought him to the proper state of mind where all thoughts coexisted in the same time and space, all blended together into a single portrait where he traced back through his memories to find that point of oneness that would bring about the anticipated rush of energies. As a nephilim, he always had a strong connection to the Divine. As a lord of the Imperium Sanctus, he had a connection to all of its territories. And as himself, he had a connection to everything he held dear. He closed his slanted, catlike eyes for but a moment. But the moment outside of his mind was as hours within his subconciousness, drinking of the wellspring as its bountiful endlessness coursed through him in ripples of conciousness. He felt the ground beneath him diminish as he floated inches above the dirt. After the fractions of time, Danyael, moderately satisfied, took another inhale, then exhaled as he opened his eyes to look back toward Kari. He would offer to heal her, if she needed healing, but thought better of it. The memory of his previous barbarism was still fresh in the minds of her friends. He'd not wake their ire for a paltry offering of aid. 

And so he took stock of the remaining companions. Of the young sorceress, whose name he didn't know. He didn't know why, but he liked her; as if any of that mattered when copared to the grander scheme of things. He looked to his old brother in arms, Soul Reaver, to whom he still held a lingering respect and then looked to the great Seraphim, whose name he also never had the pleasure of knowing. In some ways, he was more foreign to these people than they were to him. But those were thoughts better left unspoken.

Cameron:
Gar nods a silent thanks to Danyael as he accepts Kari from him. The Elementals tend to her, and soon enough she is upright, using her own recovering energies to aid her healing as well as assist in the recovery of Karyl, who had taken a serious blow during the fight with Abbadon.

Kalana nods and smiles at Jharm when he speaks, and speaks a brief "You are welcome" to Kitharsis when he offers his thanks. She herself is rebuilding the mental energies she spent on creating the time bubble, hoping to at least be at half strength again by the time it wears off.

And in what seems like a matter of moments, the half an hour is up. The companions can feel reality normalizing around them, and with it come the sounds of battle. Bolter and las fire mix with explosions and screams, both human and inhuman, screams of rage and pain from both sides. it is in the direction of this cacophony of violence, holding a hand to the vox bud in her ear.

"We must hurry. The front line has reached the gates, but they are being pushed back. Abbadon has kept us occupied for way too long."

Kalana beckons to the companions to follow as she and the Elementals gather their equipment and move towards the battlefield.

After a few minutes, the group crests a hill and looks down on the carnage below. The gates to the Labyrinth are here. Massive black gates that at first glance appear to be wrought from black iron. Closer inspection reveals something more sinister. The great gate is actually made of the blackened, living flesh and bone of slaves from many human and alien races. They have been crafted into a solid biomass of squirming, stinking, wailing corruption. As stray bolts from the battle strike this massive construct, it shudders and screams and bleeds, but holds fast.

In front of this gate are the amassed forces of Chaos. Chaos marines hurl purple-tinged bolter fire into their enemies. Noise Marines line the steps leading to the gate, blasting their sonic weapons at any unfortunate soul who comes too close. The power of these can melt even a Space Marine's eardrums and boil his brain inside his skull. Plague Marines hurl cocktails of exotic, never before seen viruses into the fray, causing many a Marine who neglected to wear a helmet to suffer maladies ranging to minor mutations to full blown cellular breakdown as their flesh sloughs from their bones. The Khorne Berserkers lead the  defense, entrenched in melee combat with Assault marines and holding the front line fighters at bay with chain-axes and blood-curdling screams.

Opposing them are the remaining Space Marine forces, representing all available chapters, including the newly returned Dark Angels. Chapter is largely forgotten at this point. Black Templars fight back to back with Imperial Fists. An Ultramarine pulls a wounded Blood Angel out of the fray while another Blood Angel and a Dark Angel leap in to cover their retreat. Mixed through all of this are flashes of bright steel, the armor of the Grey Knights. They lash out with their Nemesis weapons and pour bolter fire into their foes. Terminators clash with their dark brethren In the sky, Assault Marines take on their  Raptor counterparts, pouring promethium from their jet packs as they spill the blood of their mortal enemies. In the midst of this, Tanks from either side spill missiles, autocannon blasts, and las-fire into the enemy lines.

The sight of this is impressive. Each side still boasts thousands of troops, and they all have converged on this same spot. Even now, stragglers from both sides rush in to join the fray. Not since the Horus Heresy have these two foes amassed such a force against each other. Yet it is plain to see that the Chaos forces, with their dark gate at their back, have the advantage. They are slowly but surely driving the Marines back.

Kalana summons her energy blades, and the Elementals unsheath their weapons. With a combined cry, they leap into the fray. As the surprised Chaos forces look up, they see the approaching Elementals, and the companions still on the hill.

Reinforcements have arrived.

Soul Reaver:
Though he still feels drained, Soul Reaver notices that time has run out.  There was a battle ahead of them, a spectacular whirling conflict on land and in the air, lances of technological fire sizzling back and forth and the multilayered, constant staccato boom of gunfire.  Death and conflict was everywhere, and the allied marine forces were losing.

The Elementals charge ahead.  No words were needed - this was the cue to join the fray.

Soul Reaver hefts Blooddrinker, the sword unnaturally light in his hand.  It was drawing him forward into the fight, so eager was it to consume the tainted flesh and blood of Soul Reaver's enemies.

Keeping the blade low and behind him, Soul Reaver gives a battle cry and sprints headlong toward the battle.  In moments, he is in the midst of the combat.

Stray Bolter shells crack and explode around him, throwing up dust and hot chips of rock.  Nobody seems to be targetting him directly, but the sheer mass of gunfire is overwhelming.  Ducking behind the smouldering wreck of an allied Rhino transport, he closes his eyes, murmuring magical syllables and gesturing with his free hand.  A soft white glow suffuses his hand, then pulses outward, forming a white sphere around him that then swiftly fades from view.  The Protection from Missiles spell should keep the worst of the enemy gunfire at bay.

He glances out from behind the Rhino, assessing the situation.  Behind the screaming berserkers, the enemy was entrenching a strong - but stationary - fire support line.  With the berserkers keeping the assault marines from closing in, this would be a major issue.  It was time to offer some assistance.

Soul Reaver vaults onto a jutting piece of armour, magic welling up around him as he focusses on the intended target area.  He speaks syllables of magic, mana pouring through him like cold fire.  He is fusing two spells into one, determined to cause as much damage as possible to the tightly-packed masses of heavily armoured chaos infantry and vehicles.  Soul Reaver extends his free hand as several bolter shells ricochet off the white barrier around him

The air above a concentrated mass of Chaos marines shimmers and crackles, then bursts into dark life.  A sphere of black lightning hovers ominously overhead, popping and screeching deafiningly.

Only a few marines raise their helmeted heads upward in time to see it before it fires.  None had a chance to hide.

The Shadow Lightning Storm unleashes a horrific payload, sending down arcs of jumping, searing darkness.  The Shadow Lightning bolts unerringly strike at several of the marines below.  Their unholy armour offers no protection as the deadly energy courses through them, their organs frying in their bodies, acrid smoke puring from the slits in their helmets.  Their bodies jerk and shudder madly.  Several bolters explode as their shells ignite, taking out the hands and forearms of the marines holding them.

Soul Reaver stands stock-still, overseeing the carnage, his hand still outstreched.  He was not yet done.

As the first bodies start to fall, the crackling electrical energy that suffuses them leaps like a predator to another target.  A plague marine attempts to escape, only to have the bolt slam into his back.  A chaos Predator tank attempts to level its turret, only to be struck by three bolts simultaneously, blasting apart its main guns in a massive black mushroom cloud.  And yet more arcs burst from the central sphere, pouring into the defending Chaos marines below it.

The chaos soliders are decimated, fifty or sixty already lie dead or incapacitated as the Shadow Lightning Storm screeches and screams.  Soul Reaver continues to stare at the target, hand outstretched, beads of sweat running down his brow from directing the ever-increasing number of Shadow Lightning bolts.

Then, a burst of red lasgun fire strikes the ruined transport beneath Soul Reaver's feet, narrowly missing him, and heavy bolter fire begins to pour at him in massive waves.  He had certainly attracted attention.  His protective barrier was fizzing bright white, working overtime to deflect the incoming fire.  He knew he had to stop, or risk being cut down by the sheer amount of incoming shots.  He drops his hand, and the lightning storm dissipates into a cloud of dark mana.  The remaning Shadow Lightning bolts arc harmlessly into the ground or crackle out of existence.

But his first blow had struck, and it must have hurt.  He had punched a sizable hole into the chaos support forces at his location, and managed to redirect a lot of fire from elsewhere as well.  It should open the way for the allied Marines here to surge forward and establish a foothold.

As he drops down behind the cover of the Rhino again, he already starts formulating his next move...

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