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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[SF] Arthur Part one

This story takes place in the Warhammer 40K universe, this one is fairly long but the future ones are to be shorter

Void shields failing

Void shields down

The cold wailing of the ship’s machine spirit faded, like the light of the fire that followed it. The space marine’s eyes shot open. His eye-lenses were shattered, but through the cracks, he saw a blue sky above. Debris from the battle above burned as it entered the atmosphere. Warning sirens from his battle plate echoed softly in his ears, but the hormones of sleep set him into hibernation again before he could address them.

He awoke again to the earthy smell of woodsmoke and the chanting of a woman. His eyes snapped open and she screamed, backing up, “Hark, the angel awakes!” He was laying on the ground in the middle of the room, a bed of leaves below his bruised and beaten body. He realized he was in mostly in his under-armor body glove Eyes darting around he quickly gathered he was in a small hut, clay walls plastered over what he assumed to be a wood frame. The roof was low, he would have to stoop if he stood. His eyes stopped on a pile of his power armor in the corner, and he felt a sharp pain in his gut. He looked back down at himself and saw where a shard of shrapnel, red with blood, had pierced his ceramite when he had worn it. How did she get the armor off? He thought as the young woman began to gather her senses. She wore a gown of some animal skin, tied together with cords along her left side. She had light skin, bright red hair down to her waist, wild and unkempt. She held a tall staff, a green-tinted wooden pole with an animal’s skull set on top. The skull was long, horned like a daemon, and bleached white.

The Space Marine wrapped a massive hand around the shard of shrapnel and yanked it out. Ignoring the horror of the woman, he crawled over to his armor and found a small vial that lay within it, slamming it into his wound. His Mucranoids immediately went into effect, covering the hole in a waxy substance that grew out of his skin. He leaned his back up against the armor, breathing hard through clenched teeth, and looked at the Woman. She held her stick out towards him. At first, he found it comical, but then he noticed the subtle flare of witchfire ringing her eyes and burning on the skull of her staff. He put his hands up, away from the armor trying to make himself seem non-threatening. He knew a rogue psyker was a dangerous thing. “No weapon,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the hovel. “Name,” She said as she began to bring the staff back up, and the witchfire fading. “Arthur,” said the Space Marine.

Arthur stepped out of the hovel and looked around him. The building stood on a low hill, hidden in a copse of trees. All around him was the lush green of forest, but to the north was a break in the trees. Far off in the distance, A large construction of stone rose up out of the ground, tall walls and towers grey against the stark blue sky. The fortification had banners flowing down from the towers, heraldry showing a white sword stuck point down in stone on a black field. If there is a choir, it will be there thought Arthur. I may have fallen into a feral world.

He went back into the hut, the witch jumped at his entrance, he pointed at the armor on the ground. “Where did you find this, where did you find me?” She just looked at him confused and in awe. Sighing, he inspected his armor on the ground. It was worthless, shattered, burned, and with the powerpack broken beyond repair. Sorrow welled up within him. His plate had kept him alive through countless battles, it had been a second skin when he had it on. It was akin to losing a battle-brother. The sorrow washed over him, he took a deep breath, and he moved on. He had no time to let this affect him. He grabbed two more unbroken vials of the Mucranoid catalyst from their housing. He found two clips of bolter rounds and thankfully, his combat knife was maglocked to a leg plate. His bolter was nowhere to be seen. He turned to look at the witch as he gathered up his gear. Standing, he rose nearly two feet above her and weighed at least four times her weight, towering over her like the statue of a god. She probably thinks she has unleashed a giant. He felt as though he should slay the witch, an unknown psyker was a dangerous thing, but something stayed his hand.

He found a dirt path down at the bottom of the hill, he turned to follow it north towards the fortification. An hour passed, he carried his gear in his thick hands, nowhere to store the items. There was a sound like the roll of soft thunder. Arthur turned to see two human men riding out on eight-legged beasts. The creatures resembled the horses of old Terra, the descendants of which had come with humanity on its quest amongst the stars to many different worlds. The stink of unwashed men met Arthur’s nose as they approached him, they wore shirts made of small metal rings and wielded crude ancient swords. They tried to look as menacing as possible, but Arthur felt nothing but contempt for these poor examples of low humanity. “Lo!” one shouted at him as they approached, “ye knave, ye troll! drop thy blade or Wulf and I will ride thee down!”

Arthur snorted in disgust, “Standing before you is an Adeptus Astartes of the Imperial Fists, scion of Rogal Dorne and I know no fear!” The two men just looked at each other and back at Arthur and began to advance. Disappointed, Arthur began backing up, walking to the edge of the road. He stooped down as if to drop his combat blade, but instead reached for a rock. His strength was such that the man who spoke was struck before he could get another word out. In one fluid motion, Arthur spun the rock around through the air and threw it through the man’s jaw. His lower skull exploded in a shower of blood and bone as he jerked back off his horse-thing. The other one, Wulf, turned around and fled.

Arthur hated himself for doing it, but he took the bag off the fallen man, in it were a few coins, some stale bread, and a place to put the gear he already had. On a whim, he decided to add a few stones as well. He climbed atop the man’s frightened beast, finding the saddle small and uncomfortable. All the same, he turned the creature north. He worried he was too heavy for it, but it held him for now.

A short ride passed and Arthur found himself approaching a small village, plots of land tilled for farming and small hovels similar to the witch’s took the place of green trees and bushes. Up ahead stood the stone castle with the banners he had seen before. That thing would not survive a single lance strike critiqued Arthur. The villagers, human peasants living in squalor, looked at him agape as he passed. As he rode on, closer to the castle, the conditions got a little better. Arthur could hear the ring of a hammer on steel and smell fresh bread. As he rode further in, observing his surroundings with a blank countenance, a man with a large floppy hat appeared out of nowhere. “Ser Knight, Ser Knight, hast thou ridden forth to enter the lists?” he said, “I am no knight, I am an Imperial-” Arthur was interrupted. “A knight, a knight, verily, by what title shall thee ride as?” “Arthur is my Emporer-given name…” The small man interrupted him again, making marks on a sheet with a primitive pen, “Arthur, glorious, the bards shall sing your glory to the stars” and then just as soon as he appeared, he ran off. Unsure, Arthur rode on slowly, noticing larger wooden and stone buildings with many people milling about. He noticed men riding tall on their own eight-legged horses, wearing some sort of primitive armor made of steel, wearing swords belted to their waists. His combat knife was about as large as some of them. He turned his eight-legged beast and followed them as they headed towards the castle, seeing a great field of flags outside its walls.

The file rode its way further through the outlying town, the field of flags revealed itself as some sort of tourney grounds. As Arthur rode up, he noticed sidelong looks from the other armed men and their servants. Making his way into the grounds, another floppy-hatted man ran up beside him, “Noble ser! Hast thou entered into the lists?”

“Some other man like you has already asked me, what is this here” returned Arthur. “Why ser!” the man looked alarmed, “verily thou comest upon the auspicious eve of Pendragon day, on the morrow, there is to take place a joust and mighty feast, surely a knight such as yourself ride for the event?” Arthur looked at him confused, but nodded and began to ride off before a large pot-bellied man ran out next to him “Woah there, here be my…. Mine own cousin! Verily we hast invited him, unbeknownst of the celebration” The man gave a wink to Arthur. The other man, whose floppy hat swung around as he turned to face the other, said “Oh verily, excellent! May the light above guide thine arm!” Then the man trotted away, his hat flopping over his head with each step.

“What is thine name, come, follow me, thou are sure to emerge victorious on the morrow, with mine help.” The pot-bellied man said to Arthur in a hushed voice and motioned him to follow. Arthur steered his mount after the man, and they quickly arrived at a small stone building. Arthur could smell the crude musk of burning coals and hot iron. “Mine name be Witege, and thou are?”

“Arthur” responded Arthur, waiting to hear what the man had to actually say. “Verily, Arthur, a man of your size and strength, none can hold you back.” sais Witege. Arthur eyed the man, sensing his motive, “my only goal is to get back to my chapter, does this planet have a choir?” Witege looked confused, “why dost thou seek bards?” Arthur sighed, he decided he would take part in this man’s scheme, it would help him in the short run and he could figure out his next move after learning more about the planet he found himself on. “You want to ready me for this joust? Why?” Arthur responded. Witege’s eyes lit for a moment and he said “Verily! Mine own hands shall arm thee and mine own son shall be thy squire, your humble servant only begs of half the coin reward” That’s what Arthur figures the man would say. It was the best option Arthur had at the moment, so he nodded his head in assent. Witege called forth his son, an older boy named Urien who Arthur guesses to be about 15 standard years old. They got to work refitting armor to the space marine’s massive form. Arthur helped as well, his strength astonishing the mortals. The finished armor was dubbed “Wygar” by Witege. Arthur decided to hold onto his combat blade instead of taking Witege’s offered sword. The combat blade was familiar to him and made of better steel besides. By the next morning, the mortals were exhausted, Arthur found himself dozing for about half an hour, his bones still ached from the crash and he figured the rest would do him some good for the “joust” to come. Whatever that meant.

He found out that next morning, Arthur stood at the edge of the field, underneath one of the black and white banners, and watched as two men. Fully armored, rode their 8 legged horses at each other with a thin wooden barrier keeping them parallel. The beasts thundered at each other, each strike of the ground kicking up a cloud of dirt. They each carried metal shields and wooden lances that they struck against each other with a mighty crash that it reverberated through his new steel plate of armor. Both men’s lances shattered, and one went down while the other barely managed to hang on, and then he shot his hands up in triumph. A tremendous cheer went up from stands that had been built at the sides of the arena, they were stocked with humans. At the far end of the field sat a monstrous tent, a black veil obscured its insides.

As Arthur stood watching stoically, Witege walked up behind him. Arthur turned and saw the man leading a massive 8 legged mare. “This be Llameri, she fits thine stature, verily, more than thine beast thou doth approach with.” Indeed she did. Arthur couldn’t help but admire the cords of muscle hidden just below the horse’s flesh. He looked back at the man and gave him a nod. Witege looked like he was expecting more, and then continued, “mine son hast a saddle for thee as well, Llameri shall be chomping at the bit for thine ride…” Arthur nodded his appreciation, face impassive. Witege shrugged and whispered “okay ser” as he walked away, leading the beautiful beast by the reins. Arthur watched a few more of the jousts to get an idea of how it worked, coming up with plans of his own.

His name was called. He strode forth on Llameri, donned in Wygar, feeling almost as powerful as he did holding a fortified position with his battle brothers. He smiled to himself under his helmet, he could probably secure the planet for the imperium by himself if he still had his plate and bolter. Against him, a knight in shining steel arrayed himself, a bright red plume trailing off his helmet. His horse was powerfully built, but even still his foe looked considerably smaller than Arthur.

Urien ran from his cover near the stands and handed Arthur his new unpainted shield and a tourney lance as the man across from him was also equipped by a squire. The other man raised his visor, he had a face red from the heat, with a large mustache. “Verily! I face a giant this day, wherest thou hail from, O Arthur?”

Arthur thought of a suitable answer before calling back “the Imperium.”

“Arthur of the Imperium, on this day thou ridest against Cador of Camelot!” Arthur shut his visor, and Cador did the same, their mounts stamping the ground in anticipation.

A man in a floppy hat took to a stand above the middle of the lane, holding a flag aloft. When he dropped it, both riders spurred their mounts forward, readying themselves for the clash. With Arthur’s enhanced psychology and physiology, Cador didn’t stand a chance. As Llameri thundered down the lane Arthur calmly sat into position, bringing his shield up and across to meet Cador’s lance, while he brought up his own to smash into his opponent. At the last moment he arrayed his lance in a calculated position, and when they struck with the blast of splintering wood, Cador was thrown off the back of his mount. Arthur rode down the rest of the lane to the adoring cheers of the crowd, before turning and going down Cador’s side, jumping off Llameri to help the man up. “You rode well,” he said, offering a hand. Cador slid his visor open, red-faced, and smiled at Arthur and said, “Aye, and thou ridst better” before taking his hand.

As Arthur doffed Wygar and Urien took Llameri off to take care of her, he heard the crash of the next joust. The shattering of lances and the yells of men and beasts as the first pass was completed. Arthur stepped out of his tent to watch, still half armored, to see the men prepare for a second pass. As both were handed new lances, Arthur focused in on one of the knights. He sat taller than any normal man, armor painted in the red of arterial blood and the screaming face painted on his shield seemed to writhe in pain. The knights began their second pass. The bloody man’s steed screamed as it flashed down the lane, tearing clouds of dirt into the air. When his lance struck his opponent’s shield it shattered, while the other man’s split and slid from the shield with the screaming face. The man careened off his mount into the dirt as the bloody knight rode to the end of the lane, hoisting his shield into the air. Arthur’s hearts felt a chill of cold as he watched the unnatural knight. When the vanquished man tried to get up, his shield arm lay limp, broken back in a sickening angle. Arthur clenched his jaw, wary of the knight in red.

The day wore on, Arthur vanquished whoever he rode against, while watching the bloody knight do the same. That afternoon, while taking a meal in his tent between jousts, the tent flap flew open and the witch from the woods burst in. Urien ran in hot on her heels trying to hold her back. Arthur held up a hand, “I know this woman” he said to Urien. The boy looked confused and waited, the witch turned to Arthur and said, “Lo! Angel of steel, I have pierced through the mists of time. Verily, as mine own form stands before thou, mine eyes saw one who seeks to send thee to the spirits! A knight, armored in blood, blessed by dark powers beyond the light of the stars. If thou shouldst ride against him, he shall smite thee to thine end!” She heaved with excitement, eyes wide as he looked back at her from his stump. Arthur stood up, “My thanks woman, by what name are you called?” he responded, holding out his hand.

“Morgana” She said, shaking his hand, “Arthur, forsooth, this thing must not come to pass” Arthur nodded and said, “I will deal with this” he looked to Urien, and told him what to do.

The time came for the final round, the joust to crown the champion. The crowd hushed, even the wind stilled from blowing the flags as Arthur took his place across from the bloody knight. The knight lifted his visor to reveal a hard lean face, clean of any hair, even eyebrows. His eyes shone pure red. He breathed deep, sucking in air like a drowning man before calling out in a guttural voice “Mordred rides against thee, I have vanquished all before, feast thine eyes upon me and despair!”

Arthur raised his own visor to shout, “You ride against Arthur of the Imperium, a warrior of ages long forgotten here. I am a wall your lance will break upon, your malignity has no power over me!” before slamming it back into place. He still beat the man in stature, but Arthur knew Mordred carried more than just his own power in his body.

They both spurred their mounts forward, Llameri bolted down the beaten lane, bursting forward more than she had at any time previously. Arthur readied himself and couched his lance as the bloody knight grew ever closer. They crashed together, both lances shattering to splinters upon the other’s shield. Arthur absorbed the force well, and watched Mordred regain his balance after the hit. The crowd roared its approval of the spectacle. They circled, coming back around to the ends of the lane. As Urien ran up with another lance he gasped “Arthur, thine arm!”

Arthur looked down, splinters of Mordred’s lance had defied the laws of the universe, they had split off and the wood had stabbed its way through the inside of the plate on his arm, and blood now seeped out of the wound. He clenched his jaw and yanked the shards out with a grunt, and then took the new lance. “If he does not fall here, bring me the magic lance” Arthur whispered to Urien.

They readied themselves once more, Arthur spurred on Llameri and her hooves thundering with the power of the engines of a thunderhawk, flying down the line. Arthur rammed his lance home, just as Mordred did the same, but the bloody knight’s lance slid off the shield, smashing into Arthur’s breastplate. Again, shards of wood punched themselves through Wygar, and Arthur breathed hard, smelling blood, as he looked down and saw foot-long spikes porcupining his chest. Mordred had almost fallen in that pass, but he regained his composure and circled on his steed. The crowd fell into another hushed silence as the two knights circled back into position. Blood now ran in rivulets down the front of Arthur’s armor. Urien ran out, eyes wide with concern, and handed Arthur the special lance. “I’m fine” Arthur grunted out through clenched teeth, shooing the boy away. He focused himself, and spurred Llameri one last time, as Mordred did the same. The two knights thundered at each other, as they neared Arthur took a deep breath in his helmet and threw his shield to knock Mordred’s lance aside. At the same moment, he smashed his lance into the other knight’s shield, the bolter round hidden within kicking off as the lance shattered. The round smashed through the knight’s shield, ripping apart Mordred’s armor, exploding within his arm.

There was a shower of blood accompanying the loud burst of the bolter round, everyone in the crowd jumped to their feet screaming. Mordred collapsed to the ground, falling off his mount, his left arm completely blown apart. Nothing was left but a twisted mass of steel and bleeding flesh. Mordred didn’t even scream. From the ground he grabbed the saddle and his horse began to move. It dragged him through the dirt and he turned back to yell at Arthur “Thee shall see me again, O cursed Arthur!” Together they tore through the camp, headed south.

Arthur stumbled off Llameri, and fumbled into his tent to grab a vial of the Mucranoid catalyst. He smashed it into his chest, and rubbed the coarse liquid into his arm. Inhaling sharply with the pain, he tore off his helmet. He realized that outside, the crowd of mortals had gone silent. He stood up to his full height and walked out of the tent. The crowd stood in a semicircle about him, with Witege, Urien, and Morgana a few steps forward. A floppy hatted man stepped out of the crowd and said “uhh Ser Arthur, King Pendragon will see thee now”

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