FIRST COMPANY STRIKE FORCES |
CORVIN'S CRUSADERS By Adam Smith |
"Codicier Corvin!" Brother Tarel flung the 15ft stone door wide as he stamped into the private chamber and saluted, accompanied by his usual grim expression and immaculate robes. Corvin speedily shut off the data slate he held, folded his arms and gave his battle brother a look of impatience. "Sir! We have located the arch fugitive. He appears to have returned to our previous objective. Tech Priest Avias believes-" The Librarians eyes flared with unnatural light, filling the room with a chill air. "I have no desire to hear the beliefs of a simple human, Brother Tarel, regardless of how augmented his frame may be." "Sir." Tarel shifted his weight. "Ready our battle brothers for the hunt. We make planet fall at sixteen hundred hours." "Yes Codicier." Tarel's head bowed in prayer "The Emperor guides and protects." Bowing still, he backed out of the chamber, with the mighty door crashing shut behind him. |
Yet, the Emperor is at my side and I cannot stray. The arch fugitive shall repent, the sword reclaimed and the throne of Chapter Master mine at last. The Sword of El Johnson will make me worthy of such glory!" Corvin rose to his feet, flung the chamber doors apart with a glance and strode, sword held high with his pride to lead his brethren to the hunting grounds. |
The watchers in the dark emerged from shadows about the chamber, to armour his hulking body. Plates of armour were riveted and plugged into his scarred flesh and the layers of his tactical dreadnought armour extended his bulk considerably. The last of the robed watchers knelt before the Librarian and humbly offered up his gigantic force sword, which he effortlessly lifted from the struggling figure with a single armoured gauntlet. The watchers bowed low, doubling over, pressing their heads to the cold marble floor, then fled back into the darkness from whence they came. Alone, he fell to one knee, leaning on his sword as the chamber filled with silence and an eerie glow of the force sword. With eyes screwed shut, Corvin offered up his prayer to The Lion: "It is well known among the Deathwing that Cypher carries with him a sheathed sword that he never draws. I believe that it is indeed the sword of El Johnson, recovered from Caliban before the scourging. Cypher must not be allowed to tread on holy Terra, to enter the Imperial Palace, to beg Him for forgiveness. There can be no forgiveness, no respite and no future for the fallen. I know well in my heart that my brethren abhor me. Like they abhor the mutant, the alien and the witch. |
These images have been reproduced with the kind permission of Adam Smith. |
