Somewhere in Segmentum Obscurus…

The great ship shook with a deep, thunderous rumble and the high pitched screech of metal could be heard by those within the dark cells. Men and women gasped in horror for they expected at any moment for the great starship to be obliterated in a wave of fire that would instantly reduce their bodies into dust. When the moment passed and an uneasy silence followed, they began to desperately pray to the God Emperor for deliverance.

Among these poor wretches was a man named Jared Kollen whose eyes were tightly shut as he too prayed to Him on Earth. Like many of the other people within the holding cells of the ship, he had once lived in the Hive City of Sorres Prime. He was not a bad person or at least he hoped he was not for he had been one of the lucky few in the Lower Hive to find legitimate employment in the Upper levels of the Hive as a dock worker at the Spaceport where crime and violence was far less severe than in his neighborhood which was ruled by a gang called the White Skulls who often left him alone as long as he paid his protection money.

Then came the Adeptus Arbites who began one of their brutal culls and the life Jared had known had come crashing down around him. He saw men and women he had known since he was child be gunned down like animals by the Judges who did not discriminate between those who fought back or those who tried to flee for all were guilty in their eyes. The last thing he knew about the cull was the intense agony as a Shock Maul had struck him over the back of the head and the faint feeling of being dragged away by the Judges.

Now he was here, aboard a starship of the Imperial Navy that transported supplies and goods to warzones across the Imperium. He had always wanted to leave the Hive and go out into the stars, but not like this, not as a slave who was whipped and beaten to work the arcane machineries of the ship. He had no idea of how much time had passed since he had been taken from his Hive for there was no such thing as day or night within the steel halls of the ship.

Life aboard the ship was a different kind of Hell in comparison to the lower hive for they had been forced to work sixteen hour shifts of back breaking labor where the merest infraction resulted in a public scourging, if you were lucky. Disease ran rampant across the work gangs, claiming dozens if not hundreds of lives while the officers of the Navy wore protective masks and suits to protect them from such outbreak. It mattered little for the crew aboard the ship of how many workers died for always they could easily just get more and if the Ecclesiarchal priests were to be believed, then their suffering, their deaths was not in vain for they would die as martyrs for the Imperium.

There were many a time when Jared thought about just trying to murder one of the Navy officers who had had been assigned to oversee their labor for to die from a bullet would be far more preferable than what his life had become. Now all of that had changed when something had attacked the ship and the alarms had gone off. The work gangs had been herded back to their filthy cells which were stained with human waste and the lights were shut down and leaving them quite literally in the dark.

The air recycling systems still worked which at least prevented them from suffocating to death but it was only a small comfort for Jared knew that with a single press of a button or a malfunction from the ship's fickle Machine Spirits, their supply of oxygen could be cut off entirely. And so they remained there in the darkness, praying to the Emperor and listening to the distant sound of fighting aboard the ship. Exactly what had attacked the ship was not known to anyone within the hold and for all they knew; it could have been pirates or xenos.

The thought of the latter filled the work gangs with dread for like all citizens within the Imperium, they knew that the alien was something to be feared, hated and abhorred. Although the ship itself had thankfully not been boarded by aliens since the time Jared had been on it, he had heard tales from other slaves about such events occurring or people who had survived xeno attacks on their home worlds. Soon the sound of fighting eventually ceased and a dread silence filled the holding cells.

And so they continued to watch and wait in the dark, slow breathing could be heard from around Jared. The lights suddenly came back on, blinding the many slaves who gasped or shouted oaths and the distinct hissing sound of the metallic doorway which sealed the holding cells, slid to the sides. Rubbing his eyes and trying to wipe away the brief blindness, Jared heard the sounds of heavy boot steps across the metal floor.

When his vision returned to normal, he wondered if for a moment, he had been dreaming or had become delirious for what he saw was no officer of the Imperial Navy but something that was all too glorious to behold. Not far away from the bars that imprisoned Jared and dozens of others from his work gang, was a massive warrior in armour of grey and gold. The warrior's helmet was hooked upon the side of his waist to reveal features were proud, noble and strong with a mane of rich black hair, fair skin and eyes of deepest blue.

A Space Marine realized Jared with awe as he looked up to one of the legendary warriors who were said to be the right hand of the Emperor himself. The Space Marine calmly surveyed the holding cells and Jared saw an expression of sadness appear upon the face of the demigod who then began to speak in a voice that was both strong yet kindly at the same time.

'I am Battle Brother Jaime Vellock of the Aquilla Veritas, and I am here as your liberator' said the Space Marine and it was then that Jared realized that the great warrior was carrying something over his right shoulder which then set down on the floor.

Quickly did Jared realize that it was a large, leather sack with the barrels of several guns poking out from it. The Space Marine then began to walk towards the nearest cage which just happened to be the one Jared was imprisoned in and instinctively, he and those next to him began to back away. The Space Marine then gave them a soft smile which felt reassuring for it was one that quietly said "trust me"

The mighty Space Marine then placed his gauntleted hands upon the bars of the cage and with some effort, the Space Marine began to pull the bars. Steel groaned in agony as it bent out of shape and light beads of sweat began to appear on the Marine's forehead. He then let go of the bars as soon as an opening large enough for a person to move through appeared and he took a step back.

'I offer you all now, a choice' said the Space Marine 'join us , the Aquilla Veritas and join our Crusade to make the Imperium as our Emperor envisioned it! To change the crumbling cesspit of corruption the High Lords of Terra has made it and to build a better future for all mankind!'

Jared and many of those around him gasped for they could hardly believe what the Space Marine was saying. To change the Imperium, to challenge the authority of the High Lord of Terra was both heresy and treason in the highest magnitude and yet… The way this Space Marine spoke, the conviction and the weight of his words, there was something about him which said that it was possible, that everything he said was something they could actually achieve.

Jared thought back to his younger years in the Hive, the misery and poverty which so many people lived while the nobles of the Upper Hive grew fatter. He remembered not only the recent Arbites cull that had brought him away from his home world but even the ones before that. Within the Hive, he saw many injustices caused by those in power and having talked to the other slaves, he knew that in many places across the Imperium, justice was dead word.

'I will join your crusade!' announced one man, a strong, barrel-chested fellow who was one of the newer slaves. 'My brother was pressed gang by the Mechanicus and they turned him into a servitor!' the man then said with his hands clenching into fists.

'Them Witch Hunters burned down half me village!' said a woman from somewhere at the back of the cage 'they said they was looking for heretics but they didn't find any, we was good, honest folk we was and they just killed a lot o us to be sure!'

Voices soon began to rise, each one a tale of the injustices done to them at the hands of the Imperium's authorities. The Space Marine then raised his right hand and immediately they were silenced.

'This is not what our Emperor wanted!' said the Space Marine. 'our Imperium is infected with a great cancer from within and we of the Aquilla Veritas wish to excise that cancer! But we cannot do this alone for we are merely a single Chapter! Join us! And together we can bring the Truth which the Emperor himself wanted for all of us!'

'We're with you my lord!' announced the first man who spoke and another rose up to declare his allegiance to the Space Marine. Soon more and more of the slaves began to rise to announce their willingness to join the cause. Among them was Jared who vowed to follow the Aquilla Veritas and the Crusade of the Truth.

Months later…

'What a shithole' said Maric van Hoenn.

Erron Caulder could whole heartedly agree. When they had first stepped off of their ship and into the spaceport, the first they knew about the place was the stench. The fetid smell of rotted garbage mixed the exhaust of spent fuel and chemicals both industrial and narcotic, created an odious mélange which forced the two men and eight guards to don breathing masks.

Their ears were assailed by a cacophony of various noises which ranged from voices speaking in various languages, songs, liturgies, the horns of vehicles, the advertisements of merchants and many other types of sound. The streets were crowded with hundreds of people, some looked to be simple travelers, merchants or workers, some had the shady looks of thieves looking for an easy mark while others had the dangerous stances of men and women who knew quite well, how to kill.

For four years now, Erron Caulder had been a Seneschal for his master, the Rogue Trader, Leonhardt Metzger II who was the head of Metzger & Sons Corporation. His predecessor had met with an unfortunate demise after being introduced face first to the business end of an ork pirate's axe and ever since taking that man's place, Erron had found himself doing quite a variety of multiple tasks for his employer. Their current task was to deliver a message which the Rogue Trader had been very particular in emphasizing that it must be brought by hand and by someone who was part of the upper echelons of Metzger & Sons.

Erron had to admit that he felt a bit honoured that he, a humble servant would be thought highly of by his employer. The Seneschal himself was a thin, bookish man who wore a modest justaucorps of bright green with golden ivy patterns, black breeches, a white silk cravat and cuffs of the same material and he even wore powdered white wig. A well crafted Laspistol was holstered by his right waist and the Seneschal was more than capable of using it along with the red lens bionic monocle upon his right eye to put a laser between an attacker's eyes.

His companion, one Sir Maric van Hoen, certainly cut quite the impressive figure. He was dressed in a bright blue and gold coat that was quite similar to the ones used by the high ranking officers of the Imperial Navy along with a large tricorn hat that proudly displayed the golden insignia of their company. What truly marked the man who was an Arch Militant for their employer was his weaponry for his strong, calloused hands remained close to a highly ornate bolt pistol and a chainsword.

The armed guards who accompanied them stood in contrast to the two men for they were garbed in suits of black carapace armour worn over brown combat fatigues. They looked very much like the older generations of the Imperial Guard's Storm Troopers, especially with their entirely face concealing gas masked helmets which had two red eye lenses. Each of the mercenaries were equipped with Merovech Pattern Lasguns which carried two power cells was supposedly better suited for close quarter fighting.

Even though both men had never been here, they knew well enough of the infamous reputation of this lawless place that was known as Footfall. Centered around a massive statue of the God Emperor, the void port was quite notorious for being a place where the laws of the Imperium held little sway. It is said that in this wretched den of scum and villainy, one could find every vice known to man and learn a few new ones as well.

Having been given the address of an establishment called Paradise Vale, it became a simple thing to ask for directions from the one of the locals who happened to be an old woman selling corpse starch which was transported around within a cart. The food vendor easily gave them the information they needed but the Seneschal had also noted the hint of fear within the old woman's tones. Knowing well enough just what kind of dangers could be found in lawless places like Footfall, Erron endeavored to ask if there was anything they needed to worry about around the Vale.

'Lots of gangers and nasty blokes around there' said the old woman in a cautionary manner while shaking her head 'aint just the Narcs and the Tutors that now stay around those parts'.

'Could you care to elaborate?' asked the Seneschal with curiosity for if there was the possibility of a fight, he needed to get every bit of information he could find so that he may plan accordingly.

'Some mercenaries set up shop over there' said the food vendor while pointing her withered chin to the east where the Vale was 'real nasty pieces of work they are, last week they got into a scrap with some heretic cultists and they publicly burned the survivors for laughs.'

'Holy shit, you serious' spoke one of the guards.

'Aint so strange around here' shrugged the old woman 'just yesterday, I saw some unlucky scav get his guts eaten by a pack of Kroot'.

Ah yes, the Kroot noted Erron for among the many lovely things he had heard about Footfall was that aliens actually operated openly within the void port. There were even rumors of entire cults dedicated to the Dark Gods that operated within this place. Reaching into one of his pockets and producing a silver coin, Erron handed it to the old woman who gave him a simple nod before going back to hawking her wares.

'This could be interesting' commented Maric who stroked his bare chin and Erron could detect the hint of eagerness in the Arch Militant's voice.

'Remember that we are not here to go start a fight' said Erron with some annoyance for more than once in the past, the Arch Militant was eager to go out and start trouble.

'Of course' nodded Maric in a dutiful manner while wry grin came across his face.

Following the directions of the old vendor, they made their way on foot to the Vale without any incidents but they eventually began to become tenser as they entered a much seedier looking part of the port (which was saying a lot) where armed gangers gave them appraising looks. When they found the establishment, it was as Erron suspected, quite far from being a paragon of hospitality.

The Vale was a rather large but very dingy looking bar that would not look out of place in the lowest reaches of a Hive City, its stone grey exterior was covered in centuries of ganger graffiti and grime. Mean looking tattooed men and women dressed in a variety of leather clothing that was often adorned with chains and spikes were going in and out with more than few clearly being under the influence of some narcotic intoxicants. There was even a very pale and clearly deceased man lying in the gutter not far from the entrance which the locals hardly even noticed.

'I take back what I said earlier' said Maric 'now this is a real shithole'

Again did Erron agree and with a quick command, they made their way into the Paradise Vale. They entered the building unopposed and the first thing the Seneschal noted was its dark and misty interior. Narcotic fumes filled the air as dim lights casted only a small amount of illumination and he activated his bionic monocle's night vision mode. The music was slow, rhythmic and utterly detestable to the ears of the Seneschal who preferred the elegant instruments used to entertain the elite members of Imperial Society.

Keeping one hand close to his laspistol, Seneschal Caulder crunched the numbers in his mind and he concluded that the guards who had accompanied them may not be enough if things turned to violent. The patrons within the Vale were now almost entirely composed of savage looking gangers who all bore similar red, serpentine tattoos. He noted how each one carried a knife or a gun with more than a few giving them dangerous looks like the way those would-be thieves did and he also was aware of how many of them seemed quite confident in their chances.

Aside from drinking, more than a few were engaging in the use of various drugs, whether it be in form of syringe, a pill, powder or a gas, all seemed to already be heavily doped up. Maintaining his composure, the Seneschal walked towards the bar area with a confident stride while staying alert for any dangers. The barkeeper, who was a pudgy, older man with dark skin, was busily pouring a drink for a pair of female gangers who wore some rather scandalously provocative garments along with gilded torcs that were etched with sharp looking sigils.

As the Seneschal and his company drew closer, the barkeeper and the two gangers turned their attention to them with one of the latter giving a feral grin which revealed teeth that had been filed into sharp points. To the bionic eye of the Seneschal which began to analyze the chemical compounds of the drink, he was surprised to find that it was an actual form of wine made from fermented fruit. In establishments like this, he would expect that the drinks which were served would be composed of cheap organic materials combined with industrial chemicals.

'What can I get you?' asked the bartender in a none too friendly tone while keeping one hand close to a holstered stub pistol and the Seneschal quickly brought his attention to the man.

'We are looking for someone' replied the Seneschal with a smooth voice while maintaining a formal and courtly tone 'a mercenary captain who goes by the name of "The Wrathbringer"'

'He is over there' replied the bartender who tilted his head over to one darkened corner of the establishment where the two female gangers from earlier had settled down and there was a third figure who was hidden in the darkness and he realized that the gloom was not natural but one created by artificial means.

With a nod and a word of thanks to the bartender, the Seneschal and his company made their way to the one they sought. He remembered the speech which he had prepared for this moment and after a few paces he told Maric and the guards to wait exactly twelve feet away from the darkened corner. As he drew closer, he noticed the wary looks from the nearby tattooed gangers who inched their hands closer to knives and pistols.

The Seneschal then halted about three feet away from the table which had a semi-circular sitting booth and he heard a deep voice begin to speak in a smooth, cultured but distinctly accented Low Gothic that had a sibilant edge to it.

'And who is this I wonder, he who dares to come into the Dragon's lair?' said the third figure in the gloom as the two women from earlier held onto the one Erron surmised was this "Wrathbringer".

Straightening himself up and clearing his throat, the Seneschal then spoke with all of the formality he could give. 'I am Erron Caulder' he said 'Seneschal of my Master, the Rogue Trader, Lord Leonhardt Metzger II, Owner and Chief Executive Officer of the Metzger & Sons Corporation who extends to you, Lord Wrathbringer, his warmest regards along with an offer for a contract.'

Amused laughter that was both genuine and mocking came from the shrouded figure and there was something about it that began set off warning bells in the mind of the Seneschal. The being who had been called Wrathbringer then touched something on his person and the dark veil around him faded to the same level darkness around the establishment. It took all of Erron Caulder's will to avoid stepping back in shock for immediately did he realize that the one his employer had sent him to find was in fact, no man at all.

A slight grin spread across the face of the pale skinned, black haired, dark armoured, angular faced creature with pointed ears, sharp teeth and almond shaped eyes that were the colour of deep purple amethysts which seemed to pierce the Seneschal's very soul.

'Now tell me' said the malevolent alien being who was titled Wrathbringer in an imperious and mocking tone 'what does that old Mon'keigh, Metzger now want dead?'