Chapter five: Warp 9 ... Engage!
#8 of Wh40k vs. Furries
Chapter five: Warp 9 ... Engage!
Warp travel was never easy. Venturing into the heart of enemy territory in hopes of sailing through unobserved was a challenge to the dark forces even in the best of cases. But it was the only chance to get from one star system to another in any way. Even the Eldar, with their net ways and portals, traveled through the warp. Albeit in "safer" ways. The Russ' suspicion was protected from the direct influences of the Warp and the demons within it, thanks to their Geller Field, but the indirect, psionic influences of being in that dimension for an extended period of time, those could never be completely ruled out. The Empire had its own method of keeping these influences to a minimum. Unnecessary personnel were usually put in stasis, needed personnel were constantly bombarded with litanies of purification and propaganda. Furthermore, the clerics were constantly on the way and cleansed the ship with incense and blessed the crew without interruption. So that the unholy influences of the warp could not gain a foothold in the inhabitants of the Russ' suspicion. This may have seemed a bit excessive to outsiders, but anyone who had ever experienced an incursion by the forces of chaos into a space as cramped as a space cruiser and the unimaginable carnage that resulted was sure that these measures were only just enough, if at all. The warp journey to the Furia system would only take about 2 weeks, provided the currents of the warp were kind to the Russ' suspicions, but 2 weeks of nightmares and constant whispers into one's subconscious could seem like an eternity.
The Astartes of the Order were unimpressed by these inspirations. On the one hand they slept only little, on the other hand their spirit was strengthened by the decades of the indoctrination in the Order against this kind of the seduction. With the normal mortals, however, it was a different story. Even on these short voyages it was the rule that the crew suffered "casualties". Slaves going mad, lowly crew members committing suicide or attacking their comrades were not uncommon. There were usually never so many that there was a real danger, but it happened and it was every time anew a wake-up call that the journeys through the warp were journeys into the heart of madness. The Eye of Terror did not bear its name without reason.
It was in the second week when it happened. Shortly before they were to break back into real space. The captain of the Russ' Suspicion had announced that the journey had been pleasantly quick, without major incidents, in calm currents, and that he expected to be able to re-enter real space in about 12 hours at the edge of the Furia system. Ivar and his Pack had used the last 10 days intensively to train in the training cages with their weapons. Even without the support of the power armor, their movements were so fast and powerful that after a short time they stopped training with training servitors because they were no longer a challenge. Now they hit each other with training weapons. The servants of Ishmael stood on the ranks and documented the training progress of the Wulfen exactly. They had also watched the other Astartes of the Order train so that they would have a comparison when they observed the training sessions of the Wulfen. The speed, brutality of blows, and sheer relentlessness in combat was comparable in both groups. What was not comparable at all was the style. While the Astartes defended attacks with partially refined parries and with the aid of their armor in order to be able to aim into the opponent's weak points afterwards, Ivar and his Pack fought with a ferocity all their own. They didn't care about their own safety, it was all about taking out the enemy as quickly and brutally as possible. They accepted injury if it meant inflicting a fatal hit on the opponent. This nihilistic view did not surprise the spectators. After all, the point of this atonement was to die in battle. None of the Wulfen would survive the coming battle, and with their death in battle they would restore their honor and, if Russ wished, ascend to Vallhalla to celebrate with him until Judgment Day.
In the ranks were three of the sisters. Sister Ingrid and two of her colleagues, Sister Freya had remained in the camp. Her condition had taken on partly bizarre features during the last days of the journey. Sister Ingrid had already communicated with the frigate's medical staff. They disagreed on what had caused this totally unnatural addiction to constant sexual stimulation, but one did not rule out an influence from the warp. It would subside as soon as they were back in real space, that had been the statement of the head of the apothecarium. It had been difficult to keep Freya from attacking the artificers in her madness, or from repeatedly... for lack of another more appropriate word: mating with the Wulfen... But even without these attempts at sexual gratification, Freya had begun to find ever more bizarre devices for these activities. Sister Ingrid and the others had resorted to tying her up when they were not present to stop her if necessary.
In cargo hold 3, Freya was lying in the sisters' container. She had managed to free herself from the restraints. First she had satisfied herself several times with the help of her fingers. But this had already not been enough days ago to give her the satisfaction she needed now. It helped for a short time to clear her head enough to think about other possibilities. She had finally entered the artificer's container and had looked around for one or more tools. When she finally found what she was looking for, she returned to the sisters' container with her loot. She knelt on one of the mattresses in the sleeping corner of the container and spread the assortment of "borrowed" tools in front of her. Besides some long, thin tools that were probably meant to open fasteners and screws hidden deep inside a workpiece, there were two hammers of various sizes and a spare part for one of the Wulfen's armors in front of her. She wasn't quite sure how she would use the implements, but they all seemed suitable for her purposes in some way. She ran her hand over the handle of the one hammer. It was slightly curved and its diameter was comfortable. One would be able to hold it very well by the head while using the handle... She reached for the tool and lay down. She didn't wait long but drove the handle between her thighs. Just touching her nether regions already caused small flights of fancy, but that wasn't enough. It had to be more. More intense. She rubbed the handle of the hammer over her private parts a few times until it was nice and wet and slippery, then she sought the entrance. In a slow but flowing motion, she inserted the hammer inside herself. It felt wonderful. It was hard, "hammer hard" so to speak, but it was also cold... The cold would soon go away, already she could feel her own heat warming the steel of the handle. Quickly she started to fuck herself with the hammer.
"Haaa... hmmm... yes... faster..."
She was talking to herself, but her voice sounded strangely alien. There was something in it. Like an echo. It sounded demanding. Freya complied with the request. She increased the tempo. Smacking sounds rang out from her center as she continued to thrust the handle of the hammer into herself over and over again. She began to moan. Yes the feeling wasn't bad, it was clearly better than using her fingers. But it wasn't enough. It wouldn't give her "the" satisfaction she needed. It demanded more. She looked at the other tools with tears in her eyes. Without interrupting her efforts, she reached for the second hammer. Its hammer head was much larger and the handle had a larger circumference and the end was grooved for a better grip. She gritted her teeth and pulled the first hammer from her vagina. She dragged her hand over the slippery handle and transferred as much of the lubricant to the new hammer as she could. She was breathing heavily, but her moans sounded more angry than strained. As if it wasn't happening fast enough.
She knelt down and placed the hammer between her knees. The handle protruded a good 40 centimeters into the air. Hectically she positioned herself above the handle and settled down on it. The feeling was clearly more intense and the handle filled her more.
"Hnnn... huuu... yesss... exactly... very good..."
She bared her teeth and sucked in a sharp breath while moving up and down on the handle. This was more like what she needed. She increased the pace and something inside her demanded that she sit lower. The pain she was inflicting on herself only increased her arousal. She bit her lip until she tasted her own blood. Her moans filled the container and soon the storage room.
"Yessss... Yessss... more... I need more..."
While she bounced up and down, she kneaded her breasts. Her fingernails dug into the soft tissue of her breasts and in one place or another blood had already flowed. Her eyes fell on the first hammer and a desire grew in her. Her mind bristled but her flesh was weak. She paused for a moment and fished for the hammer. Holding it in her hands, she slowly slid on the shaft of the other while caressing the first. Lovingly she licked its shaft and sucked on its head.
*No... no... God Emperor no...*
But her body no longer obeyed her.
"This is going to be a feast..."
Her voice now no longer sounded like her. The echo that had previously punctuated her own voice now prevailed and the desire within it was strong.
Freya placed the hammer behind the other and shifted her body a little. The end of the handle was now right on her anus. She shook her head and opened her mouth, but instead of her scream, only a voluptuous moan escaped her as she sat down. The feeling of now being penetrated from both sides was overwhelming. Tears streamed down her face and her mind pounded behind her eyes against the golden rods that kept it from gaining control of her body.
"Yes... Yehehehehesss... just like that... don't fight it... hnnn... you wanted it that way..."
The voice almost rolled over as she picked up the pace again and the smacking sound between her thighs joined her moans again. She reached for her breasts again. She gripped so tightly that the tissue that welled up between her fingers turned blue.
"Enjoy the pain... pain is pure... pain is to live..."
Laughed the voice. Freya's eyes snapped open and she screamed a completely inhuman scream. Her eyes began to glow purple and parts of her tattoos seemed to melt.
"Haaaaaahahahaaa... you didn't think those embarrassing runes would protect you, did you? Not here! Not in my realm!"
Her fingernails grew longer and pierced the skin on her breasts. Red hair began to sprout on her head. And her voice became even shriller.
"She who thirsts has taken over your body... give yourself to her. Do not resist and I will take you to a world of excess where every day, every hour, every moment you will experience bliss and torment like you have never experienced before."
Her tongue lengthened and split at the end. She licked her blood from her breasts and raised both arms to the ceiling, never having stopped the undulating movement of her hips on both hammers.
Ivar and his Pack were on their way back to the storeroom. They would once again hand over their weapons and armor to the artificers and once again find rest before landing in the Furia system. After that, their final battle would begin. It was necessary to find oneself again before this battle and to conclude with everything. But it did not come to that.
When they opened the doors to the hold, they could already hear the unnatural sounds coming from the sisters' container. Before Ivar could react, the sisters were already on their way there. The Wulfen followed them, but at some distance, their weapons already drawn for battle. Ivar and his brothers had fought many enemies before and knew that voice no longer belonged to Sister Freya, it no longer belonged to any human. The cry of horror as the sisters reached the door of the container was only a final confirmation of what the Wulfen already knew.
Without a single command to do so, the brothers fanned out and readied themselves for battle. Ivar gripped his axes tighter and placed his thumbs on the activation rune. The three sisters backed away as a purple glow spread through the container and a clearly non-human voice muttered something about sheep, slaughter, and lust. The eight Wulfen had almost completely surrounded the container when the door of the metal box was literally ripped off its hinges. The sisters crawled backward toward the Wulfen as what had once been Freya exited the container. The Deamonette was significantly larger than Freya had been and her chest was adorned with six breasts. Her head was framed by horns and red hair and her feet were deformed into claws.
She held the door of the container over her head and just flung it aside.
"Oooohh a man... well... more like a cock carrier."
Her voice was shrill but somehow flattering. But she sounded disparaging.
"Say... is it you who made poor little Freya call me?"
She ran both hands lasciviously over her body as she said this.
"You know, if you hadn't given her such a damn good time, I probably wouldn't have come at all."
Her amazingly long tongue ran around one of her breasts before disappearing back into her grimace with a "slurp". Ivar's eyes narrowed. He knew full well that this was only meant to unnerve him into giving himself the nerve of a rash attack. His brothers were ready, as was he.
"Oooh... hmmmm... yaaa... I can still feel her in here..."
The creature grabbed her head.
"... She would never admit it, but she still wants you... how about it?"
She performed an inviting gesture and opened her legs a bit.
Then everything happened very quickly. One of Ivar's brothers shot forward. Of course the demon noticed this and turned to him, at that moment all the other Wulfen also shot forward and attacked. It was one of Ivar's brothers who finally separated Freya's head from her body with a masterful blow.
As her body sank lifelessly to the floor and her head hit the floor of the hold several meters away with a hollow sound, the atmosphere in the room changed noticeably. It seemed as if the light changed and the temperature dropped noticeably. Not that it had been warm in the hold before, but now it was downright icy. Ivar's Pack backed away from the corpse and positioned themselves in a defensive line, the sisters crouched near Ivar, who slowly turned on his own axis to keep an eye on all sides.
Then they heard a downright demonic laugh.
"Mwuahahaaaa... Do you cockroaches really think something like that will stop me...?"
Ivar's head snapped around to look at Freya's severed head, which slowly lifted off the ground and floated in midair. The neck stump glowed purple, the hair stood electrified.
"... I am the emissary of Slaneesh... my master thirsts... and she will feast..."
The engines in Ivar's axes howled as he pressed the activation runes. Baring his teeth, he sprang toward the head. His brothers whirled around and saw Freya's body rise. Dodging his blows with incredible precision, Freya's head laughed in a demonic voice. Freya's body was not so lucky. Ivar's brothers hacked the corpse to pieces and were bathed in unholy blood. Ivar continued to pursue the head, which continued to dodge his blows, laughing histerically.
"... hahahahaa... yes come wolfie... jump... spend yourself... I want to bathe in your despair... I want to purify myself in your wrath and feast on your lust for battle... Ohooo almost hit... but close is also over."
Taunting the Wulfen, the disembodied head hovered ever so slightly out of reach in front of Ivar. Neither of them heard the cargo bay doors open again. The head was about to launch into another tirade when a single shot rang out and the head literally exploded. Even as the individual pieces rained to the ground, a distorted voice was already sounding:
"What's going on?"
It was one of the Astartes of their Order who accompanied the transport. He slowly lowered his bolter while his companion unlocked the flamethrower and set fire to the remains of Freya's corpse. Ivar paused and slowly turned to face the two Astartes. His Pack were already on their knees. The sisters were close to panic, watching in horror as the remains of their sister danced in the flames.
"Explain yourselves...!"
Thundered the first Astartes and raised his bolter again. The second Astartes pointed his flamethrower at the sisters. Ivar sank to one knee and signaled the need to speak. It grew colder still in the hold, despite the prometheum fire in which Freya's body burned. The demon's voice returned. This time it sounded from everywhere and nowhere.
"Oooohohohoo... So you think just because you killed the host, my power is broken?"
The tattoos on Sister Ingrid's body began to glow and her muscles tensed. Her sisters looked to Ingrid with widened eyes, but before they could do anything else, the Astartes pulled the trigger of the flamethrower. All three women were instantly enveloped in flames. Their screams lasted only a short time. The demon's laughter, on the other hand, remained in the air. Ivar bared his teeth, he knew he was powerless for the moment, if he stood up now the Astartes would probably just kill him and his Pack too.
Then the ship's siren sounded and the loudspeaker announced the crossing of the Russ' suspicions into real space. All at once the demonic presence was gone. In the real space he was powerless. The manifestation of demonic energy in real space required far more than a few perversities and a certain inclination. Now the heat of the flames was also palpable. It was a reminder of what had happened moments ago. The Astartes stepped forward and lowered their weapons.
"Rise ... Brothers."
The voice sounded strangely distorted, as usual through the vox grid of the helmets. But something else resonated. Ivar and his Pack rose. There was sorrow and anger in Ivar's gaze at the four bodies still burning. He knew that the Astartes had done the right thing, but it was still a shame. Especially since they had died for nothing. The demon had gotten away scot-free. Ivar knew they couldn't kill a demon anyway, but they hadn't even been able to banish it. His jaws ground and his teeth gritted.
"Could you explain this to me?"
The Astartes with the bolter let his hand roam over the chaos in the hold.
"How could this happen?"
Ivar shook his head and began to form with his hands the ancient signs with which they could communicate in battle. He tried to explain that Sister Freya had been showing strange symptoms for several days, that the sisters were taking care of it, and that the ship's medics thought it would go away as soon as they left the warp.
The Astartes nodded silently and looked to the Sisters' container.
"Seal it, I know Brother Ishmael will want to examine it, but we will have to isolate it."
The Astartes looked around as if he searched for something.
"Where are the artificers, anyway?"
Ivar looked around and shrugged his shoulders. It took a while for the Astartes to turn back to the Wulfen.
"We will arrive in about 12 hours. The orbit around Furia is contested. The greenskins are not yet defeated. Our troops will be used in boarding raids. Get ready, you will be dropped on the planet by drop pod. The artificers will be brought to you as soon as we find them."
With these words, the Astartes turned and left the hold. Ivar looked to his Pack, all of whom were gazing into the flames. This was not a good sign for the battle ahead. Frustrated, he kicked away a stool that sailed far through the hold before smashing against the container of the Wulfen.
Ivar put his head back and howled his frustration in the cargo hold. It was a long, loud, wailing howl. He had failed again. It was good that the battle was coming. Then, at last, he could pay his debt and put an end to this disgrace. His Pack looked over at him silently. Not that they weren't frustrated too, but they didn't want to let their feelings go so easily. Ivar looked over at them and signaled:
"I need help."
One of his brothers approached him.
"The runes need to be renewed."
His Packmambers nodded. They went to the sisters' container and searched for something with which to cut the sacred runes into the Wulfen's skin. When they found a suitable knife, they let the blade glow in the flames of the burning corpse.
Ivar's brother Brannan began to carve the runes of atonement into the Wulfen's back. It was a painful process. This was deliberate. The pain was part of the atonement and was meant to cleanse the sinner before he could repent for his actions. It took quite a while and Ivar's brother had to reheat the blade several times before he was done. It smelled like burnt fur and burnt skin. The stench mixed with the stench of the promethium and burning corpses. Ivar inhaled it deeply. It would remind him of his failure.
When the bodies slowly extinguished and Ivar with his Pack had almost restored the hold to order, the gate opened and the artificers entered the room. Shock was written all over their faces. They had already learned through the crew what had happened. They had gone to the black market to run some errands.
"My lords."
Began Hendrik as he approached.
"We have little time. I have been able to find a few odds and ends that should strengthen your fighting ability against the enemy."
When Ivar look at him with a stonecold stare, Hendrik looked around the room.
"Yes, I see it that way too. It's a shame, but we don't have time to worry about it. We have things to do."
He explained as he spread out a blanket and presented his loot there.
He had been able to find stronger motors for the chain axes and better chains. The power packs for the energy claws were better too. Those would hold more Energy and release it quicker, giving the Edges more cutting power. Just in the case, the Wulfen would face armored resistance. There were still a few small upgrates for the armor. It would be close, but they would make it before the drop pods were loaded. The Wulfen approached and presented their blood-soaked weapons.