Battle with the Daemon Prince

Brother sergeant Osman locked and loaded another magazine into his bolter.  Across from him, Brother Reams leaned out and fired a few rounds down the hall at the barricaded traitors.  The Rogal’s Sons had been called to this planet to put down a rebellion in which the planetary governor had turned to the ruinous powers of Chaos.  Luckily, few others had turned.  The chaos scum had been pursued, retreating to the Governor’s palace to make their final, futile stand.

And now Brother Osman was trying to fight his way down the final hallway to the Governor’s inner sanctum.  It seemed the governor had saved his best for last, cultists and traitor guardsmen defended the walls and outer areas of the palace.  They had been relatively weak and their resistance meant little.  But now, deep in the palace grounds, they were encountering much stiffer resistance.  It seems the Corrupted governor had somehow smuggled space marines of the Emperors Children to the planet as well as several hundred mutants- there were even reports Demonettes. 

Several bolter rounds exploded in the wall next to brother Osman, and he recoiled back around the corner.  He didn’t notice Chaplain Warlight walking down the battle scared hallway, the chaplain’s immense terminator amour making a gentle thud with each step he took on the ancient marble flooring of the palace. 
“Brother!”  Warlight's voice boomed over the sound of combat.  “Having a little trouble finishing up?” he said, as he halted a few steps from Brother Osman.

The look on his face couldn’t be seen, just the deathly grimace of his skull-shaped helmet, its red eyes glowing with fury as he looked around.  Lord-Chaplain Warlight’s terminator armor was almost a foot taller than the other marines, who were up against the walls of the hallway.  It was older then Warlight himself, an ancient tool of war painstakingly crafted about the time the chapter was created.  It was a black as Death itself, covered with holy seals and markings, chains and various other things.  Hanging across his breastplate was his rosarious, as old as the armor and just as intricately made, it was attached to a silver chain. 

In his left hand was his badge of office, his croziuos arcanum, a large captor covered with holy markings with a large imperial double-headed eagle at the end.  In his other hand was an ancient artifact of the chapter, a thunder hammer crafted as a weapon for the chapter’s first Master when it was first founded.  Both of the weapons seemed to come to life simultaneously, energy began to flow through them as they prepared to work their deadly magic. 

“Brothers, we’ve no more time to waste here,” Chaplain Warlight’s voice filled the area, “Our traitorous brothers await around the corner for us to deliver them to their foul masters in the Warp.  I’d hate to keep them waiting…”  He began to walk forward and then around the corner.  The heretics, sensing their doom, began to fire everything they had: bolters, lasguns, auto-guns, and a solitary plasma gun.  The rounds bounced off his armor, taking off bits and pieces of various holy purity seals that covered his armor.  One of the traitorous marines stepped forward and let loose several plasma bolts. 
Lord-Chaplain Warlight began to mutter prayer as he rose. Crossing his weapons in front of him, he began to pick up speed as he charged down the hall, the weight of the armor causing the entire hall to shake. 
“My faith is my shield, for the Emperor protects me in my duties, so long as I serve him, I shall fear no evil, no pain, not even death, for as I carry out his will I become Death incarnate, his tool to deliver his divine wisdom to his enemies.”  He prayed as he ran, the rest of Squad Rage followed him, lead by Brother Sergeant Osman they echoed his prayer. 

The bolts of plasma struck a barrier of pure white light in front of Warlight as he charged, the superheated plasma scattering to the sides and burning into the walls. 

“Primarch, progenitor - to your glory, and the glory of Him on Earth!” cried the mighty Chaplain and it was followed by crack of thunder.  The traitor with the plasma gun was scattered across the wall by the tremendous impact of the thunder hammer.  Close combat ensued as the Lord-Chaplain battered his way into the barricade. 

A traitor marine leapt forward to attack, bringing his chainsword across in a vertical slash, but it found only a parry from Warlight’s crozius, and another crack of thunder as the thunder hammer’s impact quite literally blew the marine in half.  From there, another traitor attacked but his attack was parried as well, this time caught across the top of the hammer like a T.  He pushed forward, throwing a second traitor off balance, his croziuos finding its mark and sending another minion of chaos to the warp.  The traitor he parried with the hammer fell onto his back and before he could get back up Chaplain Warlight was already moving past.  The hammer landed, the traitor’s torso exploding from the impact. 

Lord-Chaplain Warlight led the assault down the hallway; the thunder, prayers to the Emperor, and the screams of dying traitors followed close behind.  If anyone did get past him, they found death at the hands of Brother Osman’s power maul and Squad Rage. 

Finally, at the end of the hall was a tall doorway, covered with chaos runes, the door to the Inner Sanctum.  His armor and weapons slick with the blood of the Emperor’s enemies, the Lord-Chaplain paused a moment to collect himself, not wanting to let his holy rage lead him to lose his discipline.

“Lord-Chaplain, are you alright?” Brother Osman asked as he stopped a few steps from Warlight.
“Yes, Brother, I’m fine, I was simply waiting for you to catch up,” and with that the Lord Chaplain raised his thunder hammer, but he paused again,
“Brother Osman, are you ready to die?”
“I was born ready, Lord-Chaplain,” replied the grizzled sergeant with a grin.

The blood seals, chaos runes, and mechanical locks of the door couldn’t stop the force of the hammer from knocking the two halves off the door clear off their hinges; the two considerably bent doors flew into the sanctum, crushing several cultists.  Lord-Chaplain Warlight followed them in bellowing litanies of hatred.  However, it seemed they were a few second too late to stop the foul ceremony that had taken place within.  There was no Governor anymore. Instead, standing in the middle of the large room was a tall tentacled daemon prince of Slannesh. 

“You’re too late, loyalist scum.  Now that I have this ultimate power, all of your souls belong to my master!” said the inhuman screech of a voice that came from the daemon.
“Now, come to your deaths, with your false faith, and that false Emperor of yours!” 

“If you only knew what faith was… let’s get this over with.  I could be praying right now.”
Lord-Chaplain Warlight began to charge across the large space of the Inner Sanctum at the daemon.  With a terrible roar the deamon lifted a huge and terrible blade of dark metal off the ground and began charging the Lord Chaplain.

  The various cultists and chaos mages who had helped make the ceremony possible began to flee towards the door, fearing that staying to watch this combat would be the death of them.  The only thing they found at the door was death at the hands of Squad Rage and Brother Osman as his marines entered the chambers.  Some of them went the warp quickly, exploding in clouds of red mist as bolter rounds hit them, others went screaming at the business ends of chain swords. 

The daemon swung the giant blade downward; Lord-Chaplain caught the weapon in a V formed by his crozius and hammer.  The impact shook the entire chamber, the marble under Chaplain Warlight cracked sheer out to the edges of the room.  The daemon roared again and pulled the blade back and then swung once more, Warlight parrying it.  Stepping to the side he sent the blade into the ground where it dug deep into the marble leaving a large gash.  The Lord-Chaplain was moving exceptionally fast for a person wearing tactical dreadnought armor, and the suit’s machine spirit seemed to whine in protest.  The old marine wasn’t paying attention to it as he parried, blocked, and side-stepped the daemon’s onslaught of attacks. 

As fast as he was moving though, the daemon seemed to be winning.  Brother Osman froze in fear, his heart skipping beat.  Everything seemed to slow down as the daemon brought the huge blade of his down in what seemed to be the killing blow.  Lord-Chaplain Warlight stood defiantly, his weapons made no move to block, the red eyes of his helmet glowed red with holy fury as he stared down the blade.  It struck a barrier of holy white light, shattering in the center, the top half flying off and embedding itself in the wall behind the Chaplain Lord.  The daemon prince was seemingly stunned as much by the purity of the light as by what had just happened. 

“Emperor, give me strength!” Lord-Chaplain Warlight said as he stepped forward into the daemon prince’s open guard.  Raising his crozius he severed the daemon’s left hand, which still clutched the hilt of the shattered blade.  The hammer came crashing down upon the daemon’s head with a crack of thunder seemingly louder then all those before it.  The daemon didn’t even have time to cry out as the shockwave from the hammer obliterated its head and sent a shockwave through the rest of the body that seemed to vaporize it, the demonic power that was trapped was released as the physical form that held it melted away.  The blast of warp energy enveloped the Lord-Chaplains form and threw the members of Squad Rage to the ground. 

When Brother Osman regained his senses and stood up, he saw Lord Chaplain Warlight walking toward him, the white light from the rosarious force field fading.  It had activated once again to shield the Lord-Chaplain from the blast of warp energy. 
“Well, Brother, another day in the service of our Emperor, another evil banished from the universe, and millions of souls saved from eternal damnation.  What else do you want to do in a day?” said Warlight as he came to Brother Osman.  Warlight had placed his crozius and thunder hammer in their holsters on his waist, and had removed the skull-shaped helmet from his head.  Revealing a grizzled face scarred from years of combat.  The chaplain surveyed the room, and the blood stained armour of squad rage.
Only a few lamps were still lit, and as the chaotic energy left the large room the light faded.
“Let’s get to the surface and see if there is any else for us to take care of,” said Warlight as he moved for the door. 
“Agreed,” replied Brother Sergeant Osman, and he motioned for his squad to follow. 

They met an Inquisitor just outside the door.  Lord-Chaplain Warlight informed him that the daemon prince had been destroyed.  After nodding approvingly and thanking the Space Marine for his service, he led his purification teams into the room, and began ritually purifying the sanctum with flame and prayer.  This was just the beginning though, eventually the entire palace would be destroyed and burned to the ground, but that was the last thing on brother Osman’s mind.