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Farewell to Siberis

A look at the life of a former soldier in the Siberis Amazon Korps as she makes a new life in the recently pacified planet of Argenta.

Corporal Mathilde slung her kitbag over her shoulder and looked at herself in the mirror. Her helmet hung over her head, its straps tightened and shining in the light. Her unit citation - freshly minted and given to her shone brightly on her chest. She was getting late for the pict session.

The Siberis Amazon Korps was leaving the world of Argenta in a grand parade. Their peacekeeping mission had been a resounding success, and she had stood with solemn pride as the 3rd company chapter master had saluted the dead and the injured from all three service branches of the Siberis Armed Forces.

Even though they were wildly different in their actions, the three forces had shed blood together to bring this planet back into the emperor's light. Now their work was done, and they could go back home. Honestly, she didn't want to go back to Siberis anymore.

She had it all planned out with the Dashing Commissar Fritz Von Leiter. She had met him for the first time when she was assigned to guard duty at the Order Hospitaller medical facility. The Amazon Korps chafed at the fact that the Death's Consuls went out of their way to deploy them away from the front lines. Her company captain personally called the Force commander certain names that would have resulted in a court martial, but there were no snitches in her company.

She had met Fritz when he was recovering from his wounds. He had specifically requested not to have augmentations grafted to him. The years he had spent among the 'penal legion' had turned him into a native of Siberis' badlands, and he abhorred augmentation unless it was absolutely necessary. She had befriended him during his long convalescence and they had swapped stories about their service and careers. Before long they were swapping kisses and more. She had half expected it to be a casual fling - finding comfort for herself on a distant world. However, it had turned serious at some point. She was not sure when they were in love, but she had gladly agreed when the commissar had proposed to her on his birthday.

And here she was. Being the spouse of a member of the imperial Commissariat, she would be allowed to remain with him, wherever he went. Her resignation had been processed extremely speedily and she wondered if a laspistol in the hands of her betrothed had played a hand. As it was, when the Amazon Korps departed, she would be a citizen of Argenta. Tonight was to be her last night with her unit. She couldn't help but feel nostalgic for the women she had entrusted her life to during her tour of duty.

They were trained well, actually much better than several imperial guard tithes. They were given the newer pattern flak jackets which were lighter and better at resisting stubgun fire, the perfect armor for peacekeepers. Their semiautomatic lascarbines carried them firefights with rebellious hivegangers with ease, and they had restored order to the city with remarkable ease. Her unit's bravery had earned her a placement in the newly raised Argentan PDF alongside her fiance, and she looked forward to start a new life here.

Despite all the problems with this world, it's people were remarkably free. Arbites wouldn't arrest entire families and make them disappear overnight, priests were counselors and not spies, and the people elected their own leaders.

Mathilde might miss her new comrades and the soldiers she had gotten to know during her tours of duty, but she was not going to miss Siberis. She had resented the place since her family had disappeared one day. She knew very well what might have happened to them, and she wanted to break free. The emperor had given her a chance, and she had seized it. Now she looked forward to building a new life here, on a planet that was unlike Siberis as possible. She looked at the picture of her unit before deployment. A few of them were dead now, good people, deserving of much better than what their home gave them. She only prayed that they found happiness.

The next day, Mathilde and Fritz stood arm in arm as they watched the last troop transports leave the planet. For better or worse, her life as an Amazon was over. She now had new things to look forward to, and a person with which to share them. Arm in arm, the two walked back to their new home, opposite to the Hospitaller Medical facility where they had first met.

Tale of the Tiger

The story of how Jurgen earned his name.

The ground is cold and hard, countless layers of snow, pressed so close together that the earth feels as though it is made of stone. His feet leave tiny imprints on the ground, all but impossible to be seen by human eyes. His improvised snow shoes are working well.

He walks by another set of tracks. The beast is four legged. A slight difference on the snow marks where the beast has been crippled by him. A foreleg hit. Were it a deer back home, it would have bled out and died within the hour. No such luck for him, his father would laugh, if he were alive.

It is hard work, hunting a great white tiger. The people on this world say that one doesn't hunt the beast, one must become the hunt itself. The tiger is the apex predator of this world. To hunt the hunter, one must become a force of nature. The blessings of the huntmaster alone allow the tiger to be brought down. The Great white cats are the favored pets of the huntmaster. Only by his grace shall one hunt him. So the old ones say.

The reward for killing the tiger is tempting. Enough money so that he and his mother can live the rest of their lives in peace in the newly constructed hive city. His mother and sister are counting on him. He is old enough to know what the men will do to his mother and sister once the arbites leave in two more days. He is the man of the house, he will not allow that to happen. They are all he has left.

The beast's movements are getting more erratic. It has moved down into the gulley to sleep. A quick shot to the head on full power will kill the thing. Then he can take it's forepaws as proof of the deed. The old ones say that they are blessed by the huntmaster himself. Maybe with this strange god's blessing, He can start a new life with his family.

His father would be proud of him now. The old man had taught him all he knew before he was killed, and since he has come to this world, he has learned more. He knows the lay of the land as good as any hunter born on these cold plains, and knows what plants are dangerous and what plants are edible. He has seen the great cats before, and knows they don't hunt people unless they have to. He moves down wind, knowing the great cat has a keen sense of smell. His shoes make no sound at all. He doubts that even the rulers of this world can hear him. His cloak is as white as the background behind him. At this moment, he is the hunter. A sense of right fills him. He knows that the time of the kill is drawing near. His nerves are tingling with anticipation. He breathes as he had been taught by his father. Eyes on the tracks, and not on the horizon, he matches his breath with the wind blowing across his face, slowing it down as the wind dies. All his worldy cares vanish. Only the thrill of the hunt remains. He is focused.

His world is focused on two things now, the tracks in front of him, and the contours of the land. An excellent place to ambush someone, to stalk a herd and remain hidden. A place that a hunter can call home. Maybe after he has secured the funds so that his family can live in the newly built hive city, he can return here. Just him and the great cats, hunting in the wilderness. No troubles, no worrries, just throbbing feeling of adrenaline coursing through his arteries and the hyper focused analysis of the terrain surrounding him.

Then he sees the great beast in front of him. It is sitting in by a pool, drinking water. The foreleg seems twisted. He has found his prey. Unbidden, a prayer comes to his lips. He knows he is praying to the huntmaster, beseeching permission to kill one of his favored pets. He has seen the old ones use the prayer a hundred times, but never recited it before today.

He feels a gaze borne up from the depths of the earth staring at him, looking into him, analyzing him with a pitiless gaze. For a moment

He sees every aspect of his life laid bare before his own eyes, and being analyzed by the the being. All his hopes, dreams, lusts and fears being looked over and tossed aside. Then something catches' the entity's attention. It is looking at the memories of his hunt.

It sees him hunting with his father, and sees him hunting alone. It looks curious now, instead of bored. It watches with stern amusement as his younger self learns from his father. and then learns from himself, and at last learns from the world around him. At that last memory, of him hunting the big cat over the trackless wastes, the creature pauses. He can feel it smile, if such a word could be applied to the entity. It looks at him, for a moment before giving the slightest tilt of it's head and striding back over the wastes. He sees a great spectral cat, walking at it's side. Its forepaw bent out of shape but slowly twisting into it's original form.

The vision passes. He looks back through his iron sights. The great white tiger is lying down on the ground. It is now deathly still. Despite what he has done, a momentary pang of sorrow fills him. It is a sorrowful thing to see such a sublime creature brought low. He walks over to it, all pretense at stealth thrown to the howling wind that has arisen. The creature is doubtless dead, but it's body is still warm. Should he flay it here in this pristine place, reddening the snow and water with the blood of such a noble creature?

A growl brings him back. Over the horizon he sees another one of those cats staring at him. Then another one appears, then then two more. An entire pack sees the boy standing over it's kind and then they move in towards the two of them. In a moment, the hunter has become the hunted. And yet, there is no threat in those growls. Their tone seems to acknowledge him as a fellow hunter.

The people at the logging outpost 52-6 were amazed at the scene that greeted them. The entire night was filled with fear and even the arbites hadn't been able to leave. The great cats were roaring during a snowy blizzard that had come up as if from nowhere, and people had hidden behind the palisade. If those things decided to attack they would be dead, power armor or not.

Arbite Groz was annoyed. He had to make sure that this place wasn't torn to pieces from the scared mob within and no one was trying to cause law and order issues in the general emergency. Duty drove him forward as he patrolled the village all night. Once the storm was over, he could return to the hive city again. It was coming along nicely. The Death's Consuls were hard taskmasters. Hard but fair. Which was a lot more than those criminal scum deserved.

The only other people who were not shitting their pants in terror were the old bastards who kept the temple of the emperor running. They worshipped him as a hunter, and even though it was not exactly ecclisiarchial canon, it wasn't heretical either. The old chucklefucks were laughing instead, promising that the huntmaster had spoken, and they were to witness a miracle.

When dawn broke, Groz was bound to agree. A young boy, stood at the gates of the settlement, with a rifle slung across his back, and one of those cats laying at his feet. The doors swung open and the stunned populace let them in. Apparently, it was impossible for humans to hunt these beasts because of the trackless wilds beyond. And yet, here was a dead tiger with a young boy standing next to it.

The old men knelt before the boy, something. He moved to investigate. Were they actually chaos worshippers? No, they were calling him 'touched by the hunt.' An odd title, but he would need a priest to investigate. Either way, the bounty on one of those creatures belonged to the boy, and with it, he could start a new life, far away from this logging camp.

"young man, if you want to collect the bounty, you must return to the hive city with me". The boy simply nodded. His eyes had the thousand yard stare Groz had seen in veteran soldiers, and he also saw a smoldering spark in them. This boy was definitely not destined for an ordinary life. The auxilia would kill for a tracker this good, or he would be an excellent scout for the newly forming regiment from this planet.

"I am done with this place, I want my mother and sister to come with me to the city." The boy said in a toneless voice. Groz nodded. The vehicle was big enough for an entire infantry section, it could fit a great white tiger and 4 people in easily. The civilians were happy to help load the beast in.

The drive to the city passed in silence. His other two passengers seemed like standard people to him. A mother and a young child that still needed help to walk. It was a girl, dressed in a frock that was a few sizes too big for her. An adorable sight, and at odds with the beast that lay before her.

The boy was skinning the beast with remarkable precision. Despite his age, he seemed to be at home working through the beast. By the time their ride ended, the beast was skinned. It would face a handsome prize in any market in the galaxy. The boy had asked him to sell the rest of the beast or keep it for himself. A parting gift, he said.

Their paperwork done, the boy had with him enough money to buy a penthouse in the hab spire. Apparently the adeptus biologis were paying an extremely high price for one of these great white beasts. The boy went ahead and gave it to the mother. The poor woman seemed scared with that amount of money. She and her daughter would doubtless get robbed soon if they were left unattended. Groz decided that he would help the two find a place. Besides, the woman was pretty in a rustic way, and it reminded him of a time back before he was a peacekeeper.

The boy was restless, and stared back at him. They were moving through the streets making way for an lodging that was safe enough. Their rooms booked, the troupe took possession of them immediately. It was an odd sight, rustic yokels taking rooms in an upmarket area while accompanied by an adeptus arbite.

Groz had suggested that the boy join the scouts for the newly formed regiment. He was doubtless a great hunter and the hide was proof enough for him to get enlisted. The pay would be good and unless they were called to war, he could stay near his family. Truth be told, Groz would rather talk to the pretty mother than this sullen boy. After a great deal of talking, he agreed to accompany the boy to the enlistment center.

They would leave tomorrow, and he had a good few hours to talk to the mother. By the time day broke again, Arbite Groz was head over heels in love. The woman had suffered through much and she had borne it in a calm stoic manner that would befit a Space Marine. Her husband had been executed for poaching, and she had been deported with her son to Siberius. They had etched a living in that logging camp, with her son hunting and her washing clothes and cooking for the men. This was a strong woman, and he wanted to help her. Groz was always a hopeless romantic.

The next day, he took the boy to the recruitment center for the PDF. Within five minutes the boy walked out, disgusted. A similar story happened at the guard enlistment panel. These men were not hunter's the boy claimed. He would die rather than serve under such fools.

While returning to their lodgings, the boy asked Groz about the throng of young men lining up. He seemed very interested in the overlords of this world. The Death's Consuls were hard men, but fair. Then he saw the boy walk towards the line of aspirants. The last thing Groz heard him say was, "Take good care of my mother and sister for me Arbite. You will regret it if you don't." Then he was lost in the crowd.

The crowd doesn't spare him a second glance. He is one face among many. This throng will kill each other to earn a place where they may become spirits of death. This is a place for a hunter. This is where the huntmaster has led him. When he leaves this arena, he will hunt forever more. He feels it in his bones. He has bid farewell to his mother, and his sister. The armored man will take care of them, he sees it in his eyes. Now his destiny lies before him. He just as to reach out and grab it.

He drops his backpack and takes out the hide of the great beast. A hush settles over the arena. Even the two impossibly huge warriors clad in black and white take notice. He sees that their colors mimic those of the great tiger. He grabs his flaying knife and begins the last hunt of his old life.

The sun sets. The crowd is overawed by his display of skill. He has been careful not to kill any one of his opponents except the most bellicose. Those that don't know their place deserve the kiss of the flaying knife. Those who do may rise to do their part again.

The warriors walk towards him, behind them stands another warrior, whose helmet is carved in the likeness of a skull. He feels the warrior's gaze staring at him. Judging him. He has been judged by betters. He stares back with a faint smile.

"What is your name boy?"

"My mother calls me Jurgen Hohle." He pauses, then speaks again. "You may calls me Jurgen of the Tigers."

The impossibly big man laughs. He smiles back. He has passed. Jurgen of the Tigers has begun the long walk to his destiny.

First Lieutenant

A rookie learns about his chapter's history

"You see rookie, it is a long story. The Commander of the First Company is Called First Lieutenant for a reason. Now that you are a fully fledged space marine, I suppose I can tell you that." The grizzled Sergeant looked back at the new replacement in his devastator squad. The boy was hotheaded, and seemed much more at home with a chainsword than with the Heavy bolter the devastators were equipped with.

In time the boy's honed reflexes with the chainsword would earn him a place in the assault marine squadrons of 3rd company. All Hanz Gotz-Hohle had to do was not get himself killed. If only he had the patience of his legendary ancestor.

His time in the scout marines had not taught him the patience that belonged to the hunter. A minor son among the very brightest houses of Siberis, he had brought honor to his ancient line by becoming the newest recruit.

Chaplain Sigvald said that the boy was a peerless swordsman. What he didn't say that he had all the subtlety of an ork nob. Still it would be up to Grimbold to teach the boy patience. There would be plenty more opportunities on the battlefield.

The third company was engaged wholescale in helping the inquisition conduct an investigation of a supposed cult. While the inquisition thundered and drove the cultists away from the hab blocks, the 3rd company would wait in shadow, hunting the uprooted cultists while they shifted their operations. It was a good thing they had stalked out their hideouts before the inquisitor had begun his investigation. Now the cultists would soon fall into a snare from which there was no escape.

"Go on then, tell me." The young man was impatient. Grimbold supposed it was a good thing he wanted to know about the chapter's history. After all, they were all brother hunters now, and such tales were what the chapter aspired to.

"It was during the days before Jurgen The Tiger became chapter master. You see. There are not too many people on Siberius. It was designed to be a place for the worst people in the imperium to become a new person. They say our first chapter master Malus Nighthaunter was from a similar planet. We were given stewardship of such a world because the imperium believed that we could turn the worst that humanity has to offer into model citizens."

The boy nodded absentmindedly. He had doubtless heard the story in his own home a million times before. How the ancestors of his house had met, and how their line had raised the world into a position of power.

Their targets would be appearing soon. The scouts were on marking them and they seemed to be gathering for some sort of ritual. Soon they would be purged with fire and bolter rounds.

"So, as I was saying...

The chapter was still in it's infancy, and after the horrors of the heresy, life was beginning to settle into a quiet, almost idyllic peace. Chaos was broken, and humanity was the uncontested master of the galaxy. The recruits of the Death's consuls were good humans, and acquitted themselves well against the remaining forces of chaos.

The mere presence of the Death's consuls were enough to cow worlds into submission, and the chapter was stretched thin throughout the imperium. When the Dark eldar struck, The only space marines at hand were those of the First Company and the Planetary Defense forces.

The raiders struck at the periphery of the hive city and outlying hab spires, gruesomely killing civilians and taking them away as slaves. Matters came to a head when the 1st company was deployed directly to counter this threat. The 1st company took them Head On, and came out victorious, but the creatures were too crafty and ran away.

Malus Nighthaunter was true to his name, and often led the 1st company in reprisal raids, rescuing prisoners and killing the wicked xenos. Jurgen had taught us the Tiger's secrets well, and soon the hunter had become the hunted.

The xenos abandoned their slaves and made to escape the planet from their portal. While the PDF was engaged in rescuing the captured civilians, Brother Captain Markus Bloodbane led the entirety of the first company with Chapter master Malus Night haunter to destroy the xeno leaders.

In retrospect it was perhaps a mistake. The enemy was cunning, and the 1st company was trapped. Malus Nighthaunter was cut down by their darklight weapons, taking down one of their monstrous daises with him, killing the xeno leader. Watching an old friend and trusted commander fall, Bloodbane swore an oath of eternal vengeance against the dark eldar and their kind. His last words as he disappeared through the portal were, "First Lieutenant, take care of my company while I am gone."

His body was never found and so once the chapter was united once more and Jurgen of the Tigers became our second chapter master, the first thing he did was swear Bloodbane's oath - promising to wage eternal war against the Dark Eldar. We have done that ever since then, waging eternal war against the dark eldar, with their craftworld kin fighting alongside us on occasion. They are dangerous hunters young ones, but even they know the fear that comes with being hunted. It is our sacred charge, to teach them what it is like to know fear.

His second command was that that the 1st company would be led forever by Markus Bloodbane. And that is why Brother Sigismund is now First Lieutenant." Grimbold stopped talking and noticed the marines surrounding him were nodding. It was a tale that reminded them of their oaths, and why they fought the dark eldar with such vigor. At the end of they day, the Death's Consuls were master hunters and they knew how to make their foes know fear.

The chanting from the cultists had reached a crescendo. They were summoning forth a daemon to aid them, in their madness they forgot what fear was. They would be reminded.

Brother captain Karl yelled out the first part of their warcry. "Death calls-" And nearly a hundred voices replied "and the hunt awaits."

One's Duty

A dark eldar's plans are ruined

Kayla enjoyed the trip through the underways of the great city. The dark muse had seen her handiwork, and she would rise higher in the ranks. Her rise was meteoric, and if she was not careful, the vapid bitch of her leader was going to kill her. After this latest victory, the only thing that could kill Kayla was going to die.

She looked around, in her dreams of victory, she had been seperated from the rest of her sisters and the dark muse. It was a problem in Commoragh, The city was not navigable. Of course that meant more chances to satiate her desires. Today all she desired was for the dark muse to stand by her as she became a succubus. Centuries of planning and backstabbing were coming together into something perfect, and her ears tingled as she thought what would happen in the next few hours.

Kayla would be ascendant and the with the muse's blessings she would never falter. Her hour was approaching and she was going to enjoy it. All she had to do was return to the temple grounds. She didn't expect what she thought as she turned the corner.

Her entire coup was torn to shreds - literally. Her loyal troops were slowly but steadily dying on the floors. It looked like they had been torn apart by claws. She couldn't believe it as her entire force died before her eyes. There was no sign of the muse. Had that whore run away?

Kayla needed to find her right now and kill her. She was alive and unhurt. She could bide her time. All she needed to do was make sure there were no loose ends. She saw the muse standing as she crossed the corner. Doubtless the bitch had led her force into an ambush. If she was killed Kayla could run back to the temple and claim that she had saved the succubus from a plot. Yes, that was an excellent plan

The muse was not moving and she saw why. Her entire brain had been torn out of her skull and she dead. By some freak accident, the corpse was still standing.

Her kind did not kill this way. It was some sort of beast stalking the bottom floors of the city. She was in terrible danger and she needed to get out of there.

Then she saw it. A creature strode out of the darkness. It's armor was black, and it's helmet was that of a terminator, only far more ornate. Had this thing killed her force? It looked at her for a moment before moving impossibly fast and grabbing her in it's fist. She was raised up above it's head. Then it chuckled and said in perfect eldar "You will do nicely."

Then it left her and stood there. She began running away. It made no move to follow her. She was nearly out of earshot when it shouted.

"Run along little girl, Death calls for you and you will be hunted."

A last ditch effort made her run. As she neared the temple grounds she looked back. The strange thing was not following her. She shuddered as she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She was experiencing an old sensation, but far more vividly for the first time. Of course she had seen it countless times in the eyes of the prey she hunted on raids or in the eyes of slaves she toyed with. It was far more enjoyable then. Was this how being afraid felt? She wondered as the gates opened up and she rushed in to warn her mistress of the coup led by the Dark Muse that Kayla had foiled.