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      Obsidian Legion

      by Dave Clifford


           Slowly, Brother-Captain Hidalgo regained consciousness. He noted by his pulse rate and bodily functions that he had been unconscious for nigh three days now, a long period of time. His armor had been stripped from him and he was bound by manacles in his cell. A sweltering heat could be felt all around him, raising and driving in intensity, heat shimmering off of the black walls that surrounded him.
           Now he realized why he had been unconscious for so long, these conditions had put him into a feverish state, near to delerium. In order to regulate his temperature his body shut down entirely, hoping that he would be rescued by the time he regained consciousness.
           He slowly began remembering his dreams.


           They had descended by night.
           Slowly they began sweeping towards the capital, destroying the outlying villages with a cold, calculated efficiency, they moved silently, and there was no word that they had arrived until a proximity klaxon, tripped by an unlucky heretic, sounded a silent alarm that woke the first company from their slumber.
           By this time it was already too late for the marines, as the Legion had breached their walls.
           Twisted and Foul creatures fought alongside the corrupt, and the squads used nop markings, instead, where the markings would be, obsidian stone jutted forth, writhing and twisting magma playing about them. It seemed to be almost alive when it caught the light.
           Brother Hidalgo was distracted for a moment, and that was all the time his captors needed. With his eyes drawn to the terminators shoulderpad, he failed to see the claw that raked across his chest. A second such blow and he fell into blackness.


           His dreams were a gibbering stream of madness. Lakes of fire and brimstone, of damnation in a desert without water, of being swallowed into the belly of a great beast. They recurred over and over again, in each dream his faith to the Emperor challenged, and in each, his faith withstanding. He was offered power beyond that of what his captors called "His petty lord", an immortality. He turned away.


           The room grew incredibly hot, almost intolerably so. He slowly descended into blackness again.


           He dreamt about being brought to a pool of magma deep below the surface of the ground. Speechless, his captor nudged him forward, onto a bridge above the flames. Slowly, steadily, and bound by his manacles, Hidalgo began to walk across. suddenly his peripheral vision went mad, and he flicked his gaze from side to side in order to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that lay outside his vision.
           Then he saw what it was that was playing at the corners of his eyes. He shut his eyes quickly and cried out in rage and confusion at the same time. Turning again, he faced the pool, and dove in.

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           "What caused the former captain to break?"
           "He saw his tormentor lurking about him."
           "Who was his tormentor?"
           "Himself."

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           The first troops made planetfall silently and swiftly. Within minutes they had leveled a pair of outlying villages. The terminator lashed out with his flamer, moving at unison with the rest of his squad. As he gazed at the fortress ahead he felt a tinge of familiarity. But then, nothingness filled the gap, and he activated his flamer once more.
           A Space Marine suddenly rounded the corner, charging the terminator at an all out sprint. Suddenly the marine paused for a second, and the terminator wheeled about.
           "Brother?" Murmured the marine.
           The Terminator swung its clawed fist across the chest of the marine before it.
           As the marine's entrails spilled to the floor, the marine looked up with questionign in his eyes, almost a sadness.
           "Your lack of faith shall be your undoing Heretic."
           The Terminator did not speak, but merely ignited his flamer.

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           "He has passed the final test. Release the prisoner"

      ***************************************************************************


           The once-Hidalgo stepped forth from the chamber, encased in its suit of Tactical Dreadnaught armor. It wielded the same armament that his captor had. It did not speak, but merely turned his gaze upon the Obsidian wall next to him. It gazed at his unhelmeted head, his hair schorched off, his face blacked, and his eyes burnt out. It turned his vacant sockets up to the liege and raised its arm in salute of the power of Chaos.

      End.