The Raven's Lament

The Raven’s Lament

Prologue

Martina Traschelmann was a terrifying assassin. There was no doubt in her handler’s mind of that fact. He attentively watched through his charges eyes as she silently killed the imperial governess’s personal guard one by one.

Governess Doerevigger had failed in her duty to the imperium. Her first failure had been in denying the black ships their due of psychers. All planet’s with a populace of psychically gifted individuals was expected to offer up a number of them to the inquisition for the great imperium. Her failure didn’t stop there however, now she openly tried to force her planet’s populace to worship ancient evil of the dark god’s. Even now she held the major families of her planet captive as she spewed lies to the whole planet.

In the great courtyard before her  now the nobles silently listened to worried for their lives to act. Martina ignored the traitor’s words as she set about her work.

Her lithe body dangling from a pipe on the ceiling; her legs wrapped around the pipe in an impossible way; the polymorphine coursing through her veins allowing her to morph her body. She pulled guard up to her and hid his body on top of the very pipe she dangled from along with the other s. Rechtshandler  carefully keyed the vox link, warning his charge of impending contact.

Martina slowly drop ped to the marble. She noted her handler’s call, but thought she had more pressing concerns. Focusing her mind she shaped her body to that of a beautiful man. Seven feet tall with beautiful flowing hair and wings this wasn’t the first time she’d assumed the form of a  Primarch for the purpose of an assassination. In fact, it was one of her trademarks. She activated the power cell on her back clothing her in the gold armour of Sanguinius  and changing the blade on her wrist into the flaming blade of the Primarch she portrayed. She approached the ranting governess, her new face showing nothing but contempt. When she was right behind her target she let out a yell. The crowd and her target turned to her. Taking her blade and running the governess through, she let out a mighty war cry of victory.

“For the Emperor!” boomed the disguised assassin in a commanding voice.

With a ferocious kick she pushed the now dead governess off of her blade and over the balcony onto the ground below. The crowd let out a collective cheer of victory as the Chaos Prophet’s body crumpled as it hit the ground. Shots from the chaos cultists could be heard as Martina turned away from the crowd. The now invigorated populace  began to fight back for their freedom from the Emperor’s enemies.

Finally accepting her handlers call whilst she slowly and painfully forced herself back into her original form. She Walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. This simple act caused the delicately placed bodies to fall from their hiding place to the ground with a loud sickening thud.

“What is it Rechtshandler?” she asked curtly in Low Gothic, an accent left over from a mission in which her identity was nearly subsumed into the character she played.

“I was going to suggest that you wait so I could position the cruiser for some thematic bonuses, but obviously you go the job done without my help.”

“Of course,” She said as she slipped into the shadows of a door way as the sound of  combat filled the hallway beyond. Quielt she peeked out to see what was happening. Chaos militia men were fighting back the giant mob of angry noble men and women as they tried to fight for their freedom now that the instigator of this evil was dead. Judging it safe to move along she quietly slipped past the corridor and onto the next.

“You remember the rendezvous spot right?” asked her handler snarkly.

“I’m no new recruit,” Martina replied  annoyed, “when will you let it go that I forgot on my first mission the rendezvous?”

“When you apologize,” he replied, the smirk on his face evident through the vox link.

“I told you..,” said Martina making use of the sub vocal capability of the vox link she had to allow her to continue to talk as she snuck up on a lone guard’s man. Judging by his attire and look he was one of the few remaining survivors of the loyalist forces. He was crouched low replacing his battery. Martina slit his throat, making sure to get a good look at his person before she kicked him out a nearby window. Once again she forced herself to assume the shape of the now dead man. Picking up the man’s las rifle and battery she looked out the window and was pleased to see that the street it oversaw was relatively deserted for this bustling city.

“I got hit really hard on the head,” she said vocalizing the 2nd part of her argument before vaulting over the window ledge and twisting midair to grab the ledge below, stopping her fall.

“Not what the mission data says,” he chuckled.

Martina rolled her eyes before she put her feet solidly against the building, pushing off sending herself flying across the street to the next building. Summersaulting through the air she dove through an open window.

“What was the point of becoming that guards man if you’re going to Fragin  fly through the sky like a god damn bird?” he asked as she calmly walked out of the small apartment she’d landed in, closing the door behind her. Swiftly walking down the hallway and into the stairwell, where she was suddenly assaulted by a hidden chaos sympathizer. His body already bearing sign of the dark gods.

“This is why,” She said as she clubbed the man with the butt of the rifle, “So if anyone sees me they don’t even really know I’m here.”

The blow struck the man clearly in his temple and sent head first tumbling down the stair, she heard several sickening thuds and snaps as he fell down the stairs like a rag doll. Running down the stairs leaving the already cooling body where it landed. Exiting the stairwell as it came to an end and instead of heading toward the door that led outside she proceeded to go deeper into the housing block. She half ran, half walked  down the hall until she came to a severely dilapidated door, barely held in place by its rusted hinges.

“Can’t pick up zones ever be more… I don’t know? Luxurious?” she asked sarcastically as she pushed the door open gingerly.

“ Yeah next time I’ll requisition a golden thunderhawk,” said Rechtshandler laughing.

Martina’s lenses auto adjusted to the sudden darkness of the room, her lenses showed her the atrocious conditions. Rodent feces covered the floor and the dead body of a homeless man who’d probably come here in his last days to die. Closing the door behind herself and going to the center of the room she looked on the floor for the Imperial Aquila. Finally finding the one she  was looking for she stopped and found the little Officio Assassinorum symbol concealed within the Aquila. She Activated her phase blade then cut the symbol in half  with her blade. For a moment nothing happened, but the loud clanging of old machinery clanking into action was suddenly heard as the floor began to open. Turing back to the room and pulling from one of the pouches along her thigh a hellfire grenade  she pulled the pin and tossed it into the room then turning back to the now manhole sized hole in the ground she dropped down into the hole.

The homeless man stirred from his drug induced sleep and sat up groggily. The usual smell of piss and shit welcoming him back into the realm of the living, but something was off. He couldn’t place it at first until he realized it was the soft ticking of something. He went to it feeling around on the ground for whatever it was until his hand clamped on the cylindrical object. Holding it up to his face in the dark room to examine it he realized to late what it was as the grenade exploded dispersing with enough force to rupture tank armour, dispersing a highly volatile wave of promethium. The homeless man, to his credit, he did not die instantly.

---

Officrum Assassinorum Ship, the Silent Blade

Martina had completed her mission and, having filled out all stipulations of her mission, had been granted leave to use 15 minutes’ worth of hot water to clean herself. Happily, she scrubbed the filth of the mission from her. Once again it had been a vexingly easy mission. In fact all of her recent missions had been like that. As a noviate each new mission had presented a new type of excitement, a new challenge, now they went as planned. A credit to both her handler’s skill and her own; but what she sought now was a rush, a challenge. She sought the mission that would make her one of the greatest assassins of the imperium.

She kept this vain thinking to herself. She usually was able to shrug the feeling off, believing to have been part  of a past persona she had adopted that stubbornly clung to her psyche for some strange reason. She knew she needed to be careful with such desires should they lead to her down fall. Last time a Callidus had had such notions she had betrayed the order and gone rougue. Turning off the water and walking out of the shower,  nude she turned and walked down the hall way. The ship was mostly crewed by servitors and what few crew that weren’t servitors were indentured servant that willingly agreed to be blinded in return for several years or centuries off of their debt, besides she had nothing to be ashamed of. She continued down the hall passed several whirling servitor doing menial tasks on her way to her quarters. Each of her steps was slow and deliberate allowing her to enjoy the cold adamantium hull beneath her feet, she never knew why but from a time long before she could recall she had always found it relaxing. Finally arriving at her quarters she entered the access code and waited as several mechanical locks undid themselves and the door opened. Entering her room, she breathed the calming centering incense that was consistently pumped out by the censers on the ceiling. Besides a few books allowed to her for entertainment between missions, a thin bunk with paper thin sheets, she had no other possessions. Even the clothes she would wear between missions were’nt her’s. Slipping into the robe and tying it closed around her waist, she disregarded the boots and went to the center of her room and began to meditate.

Polymorphine was a strong drug and if a Callidus assassin didn’t maintain constant physical and mental perfection it could eventually mean their demise. She didn’t know how long she’d been in her meditative state, but she when she finally began to return to normalcy  shehad  several tubes and filters removed from her body removing any of the extra polymorphine from her body. In front of her sat a stack of papers. Traditionally, assassins had their missions downloaded into their mind, removing the need for paper records. Rechtshandler, however, often broke this rule when she wasn’t going to be put under cryo in between missions. He knew she had a strange fondness for paper. Picking it up she began to read the brief. Slowly a smile began to tug at the corner of her mouth. This next mission might just be the challenge that would make her a legend.

---

Archinage, an exodus world, out on the far reaches of the western fringes of the Imperium, found itself under Eldar attack a number of years ago. To combat the threat several Imperial regiments of armour and men were sent to  crush the Eldar threat. The Imperial forces were sorely outmatched  by the Eldar’s superior mobility and weaponary. Coupled with their command structure’s complete collapse they found their efforts wanting. Their plea’s for help weren’t received by the Imperium until several months ago. To  aid in the fight of the Raven Guard 5th company was dispatch with the threat. The 5th company arrived to see the guardsmen fighting desperately for the last held city on the planet. Stalling the assault on the city the company’s battle barge began to orbitally bombard the Eldar forces on the ground. Next they made use of their fighters to maximum effect and forced the Eldar to retreat for a time in space, the 5th company proved their worth in the early days of the engagement. Striking the foe with vengeance the 5th company divided wisely; while the fleet fought in space, the drop pods and thunder hawks descended to aid with fighting on the ground. With the suddeness of their assault and it’s terrifying effectiveness the  5th company quickly drove the Eldar to a full-scale retreat. When other imperial forces began their pursuit they were quickly stopped by the 5th company. This is not the first time this has happened; in fact this has happened enough that it cannot be over looked  any longer. The Imperium of Man has no room for pity. To this end Callidus assassin Z-13-A  “Martina” is to be dispatched to investigate the company, and should extermination be required take steps towards that end. To this end Z-13-A is to infiltrate the Company’s battle barge as a serf of the 5th company. Due to Z-13-A’s inability for long term Polymorphine change since the Gratilius planet incident she is to go in untransformed. We’d have rather dispersed H-56-b “Hammer” however due to his current missions sensitivity and Z-13-A’s proximity we have deemed her the best option. This investigation is expected to take some time. See people of note in the following pages.

Finishing the mission briefing and throwing it aside  she couldn’t help but jump up excitedly like a child, a smile curling her lips. This could be it, the challenge she’d been wanting. She walked back and forth from wall to wall on in her room in a matter of a few steps adrenaline already coursing through her veins.

Martina sat on the shuttle in the simple dirty robes that constituted her disguise. Her long dark brown hair had been cut to an Adeptus Militarum  regulation that left her enough to make her presentable as a woman. Her green eyes had been augmented on the way in so they were a light brown. This had been done this so many times now that she no longer remembered her original eye color. Around her sat several others on their way to the 5th company’s ship. There were about 15 or so; all varying in age from adolescence to mid to late 50 Teran years. They’d been on the shuttle for several hours now. Waiting was part of the job, but it didn’t mean Martina had to like it. Finally she felt the lurch of landing gear touching the deck. The rear hatch opened. Hesitantly the serfs disgorged  into the landing bay where servitors and tech marines were hard at work with maintenance  on several thunder hawk gunships, their soft chants of benedictions to the machines both mystifying and enchanting.

The serfs looked around, amazed at the scale of the ship’s landing bay terrified by the sheer size. Pretending to be scared aswell Martina she took in her surrounding looking for and mentally noting anything that might help her should the time come to escape or to destroy the ship. She turned her attention to the giant of a man that approached them. Immediately what little chatter there had been in the group stopped. The marine was fully clad in power armour, specifically the raven guards signature mark VI armour. She was unable to tell his rank based upon markings on his armour or medals he displayed. She guessed this meant he was no one of importance.

“You were all told before the shuttle departed where you were expected to report to by brother Orphius correct?” said the Marine.

The helm gave his voice a clipped metallic tone, the other serf’s stared at the marine in abject terror. She  tried to display the same fear but she found it hard. She’d dealt with more Astartes than she could count in her time  as an Assassin, and they weren’t something she feared.

“I was not told,” she said raising her hand.

The marine looked at her calmly. His expression unreadable through the power armour’s helm, there was no change in posture or weight dispersion when she spoke. This rendered him unreadable to her. The marine looked at the now exiting shuttle pilot.

The pilot turned to the marine and words passed  between them. Martina surmised they were using the sub-vocal channels in their armour to communicate without the serfs being able to hear.

After several moments of communication in this way the marine turned from the shuttle pilot  and spoke to them again.

“Those of you who know your duty will be shown to your posts by serf Orepheus,” said the marine gesturing to the pilot who was finishing the shutdown  rites for the shuttle.

The serfs, like lost lambs, went to the now waiting pilot and left. Orphius left with the first marine. She could tell he was examining her thoroughly. “What were you before you came here?” he asked.

“I was a swordsmith,” she said sticking to the story Rechtshandler had given her. It explained bother her muscular build and her callused hand.

“What’s brought you here?” asked the marine changing the dialect he was using.

“I-,” she began catching herself.

But the marine knew she had understood. He began to walk around her his eyes, even through his helm, boring into her. Finally after walking around her once he spoke again. Her heart began to pound and the adrenaline began to pump. She knew these were all signs that the Astartes could hear  but she did not care. She’d need the adrenaline coursing through her if he tried to kill her. The ship was large enough she could escape into it and hide for a time while she hunted down proof.

“In the end it matters not where you are from. All that matters is how you handle your duties from now on,” he said going back to the original common dialect of the imperium.

The marine turned from her and began to walk away.

“You still haven’t told me what that is,” she called out to his back.

The marine stopped and looked at the tech marine. The tech marine perked up and looked at the unmarcked marine  and then at her. The tech marine nodded and then went back to work. The unmarked marine went back to walking  away from her. She was about to call out after him again to tell him he still hadn’t told her  when a whirling servitor approached her a mop and bucket in hand.