Hey all! With the NetEA Army Docs approaching completion, I'm looking to (finally!) finish some of my other projects. (
Yes, that includes Tyranid updates!)
One of those projects is the "EPIC: Black Crusade" supplement to finally give the two Chaos armies a worthy showcase; the supplement will also include Ulthwe Eldar and Cadian 'Shock Troops' armies. The first three armies are pretty much done, only the Cadians need playtesting to finalize them. (
I'd be willing to include one or two more armies that people might think are appropriate if people are seriously interested in playtesting, probably Marine or Guard variants... though I still think twelve armies in a single supplement is a bit excessive, Ben! 
)
One of the focal conflicts in the supplement will be the Stigmatus Covenant Cult (Lost and the Damned) uprising on Mackan and their battle against Cadian forces.
This is the first section of a story that will detail the life, and possible death, of Jezra Mascari, Cadian Soldier.
It's a first draft, so please feel free to comment or criticize!
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A Cold WindA red light bathed the room as a buzzer sounded.
Jezra Mascari was upright and had her hand on the comm-link before it buzzed again, “I’m here.”
“Lieutenant, we caught something prowling around the [noble district],” the trooper on the other end of the link informed her, “and it’s not… human.”
“Keep it restrained and relay your location, talk to no one else. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She pulled herself out of bed and into her uniform. She had no need to check her sidearm to know it was fully charged.
The groundcar rapidly ate the kilometers between the makeshift barracks her platoon had been assigned and the gated community of the [noble district]. She watched the streetlights flash past, their yellowy brilliance blotting out the stars of heaven; few on Mackan cared to look to the stars even when the skies were clear so this bothered her little. The transponder on her car gave them unquestioned passage through the armoured gates that kept out the undesirables upon which the nobles had built their fortunes.
For almost three weeks, reports of shadowy figures lurking within this secured compound had been surfacing. The local security forces had been unable to apprehend what was initially thought to be over-eager gangers, or other scum, looking for a trophy or to leave their mark. A single blurry datapic showed the target to be no mere disaffected youth, but something… wrong: a human shape altered in an almost unimaginable way, a shape that blended into the background and that witnesses said moved like a feral beast. That had been enough for the local forces to call on the planetary garrison and soon Jezra had found herself and her troopers far from the spaceport and living in the luxurious suites of a highborn merchant. Her first order had been to clear out the luxuries and transform the place into a secure firebase, the only luxuries her Kasrkin needed were a weapon and an enemy to fire upon… and a cot for when the day was done.
Well trained in night-fighting and ambush, her platoon had spent nearly a week deploying sensors and tripwires, scouting out choke-points, and setting up hunting blinds. For all their efforts they were still unable to catch the shadow… until tonight.
“The target is right this way,” indicated a pale-faced corporal. “We’ve commandeered the holding cells of the facility. All security personel have been dismissed, it’s only us, sir.”
“Well done, ensure no one else gets in,” she nodded.
She passed into the holding cell and was momentarily shocked at the blasphemy before her; though she had trained to fight many kinds of abominations, the shape of the shadow sickened her. It was as if some foul sculptor had decided the human form wasn’t already perfection and had both smoothed and sharpened it into a lithe, porcelain mockery of mankind. She knew the name for such a creature: Eldar, a dying race that had failed where humanity had succeeded, their empire nothing but ash upon the stellar winds.
“Halsar tagged it with a webber, sir,” said the trooper guarding the cell door. “It still fought like a thorncat until we clubbed it down. Seems awake now.”
The creature’s colour-shifting clothing was still clotted with the sticky restraining fluid of the web-gun. It had been Halsar’s idea to utilize the crowd-control weapon to avoid property damage and to allow leeway in the accuracy needed to catch a shadow; she’d have to be sure to see the specialist received a commendation for such innovative thinking.
She looked briefly at the captive and then took in the weapon it had been found with. It certainly looked like a rifle of some kind, if someone had been able to grow a rifle out of pale wood. Its various components seemed to flow together like it was some bizarre martial fruit that had been plucked ripe for hunting. The only jarring incongruity was that the weapon had no trigger! Yet she could still feel the coiled potential for harm within it; she might not have been able to field-strip it, but it was still certainly a deadly weapon.
Her eyes turned back to the bound shadow and she realized its dark eyes had been following her the entire time she had been in the room. She waited a few moments and then decided to speak.
“I don’t know if you understand Gothic, creature, but I’m still going to ask you a few questions,” she said forcefully. “Primarily why are you here and who are you hunting?”
She nodded towards the guard as she rested her hand on her sidearm. He quickly strode forward and tore away the tape-strip securing the captive’s mouth. For a moment, the creature only licked its fine ivory teeth.
“We are here to save you,
mon-keigh,” said the creature in startlingly clear Gothic. “A great storm is coming, and we seek to change its path. This is through no love we feel for you, but, for now, the best way takes both our people down the same strand. There are many secrets on this world, and if the winds come, they will tear away the veils and awaken things that should stay hidden. Release me and I will cut short the weak thread in the tapestry, simply allow me to kil…”
Red light bathed the room and a sizzling hiss ended the words of the shadow. A seared hole had appeared in the creature’s forehead and it gave a single spasm before slumping backwards. The creature’s cloak stopped changing colour.
“Suffer not the council of the alien,” said the newcomer.
Jezra spun to face the speaker, who still had his sidearm drawn.
“Commissar Revnik!” she growled. “The prisoner was about to reveal his target, we needed to know who it hunted!”
“That information is irrelevant,” the black-uniformed man informed her. “The shadow has been caught, its threat is ended. To know they fear one of us is a good thing and the matter rests with that.”
She could only stare.
“See to it that the creature’s body and weapon are destroyed,” he continued, “and thank you for your service to the Emperor.”
The Commissar turned and left the room.
Before the body was incinerated, Jezra Mascari noticed one last thing: the necklace the creature had worn had been a deep black while it had been speaking… in death, it had taken on a glimmer of crimson that swirled within. She was unable to explain what moved her to take it and secret it in her belt pouch before fire consumed the shadow. The flames grew, but all she could think of was cold wind.
