Brief 7:
The Arena of Stolen Heroes
Durell
X XXX XXX M41
Dust swirled as Lucas stood atop a pillar of sandstone. His long blonde hair fluttered in the wind, but his simple clothes remained unaffected. As the master of this domain, the elements bent to his will, for once the golden dust settled on this land, it was nothing more than an extension of his psyche.
Hidden within the dust and separated by an invisible force, the first contestants of the greatest trick Lucas ever performed sat frozen and unaware of their destinies. Painstakingly, he collected this eclectic bunch of psychopaths from across the galaxy in hopes that they would murder each other at the drop of a helmet. Or at least that is what Lucas intends for them to do.
“Welcome! Welcome, one and all, to the peak of adventure! Welcome to what, for many of you, will be your final days in this existence.” Lucas said in a bashful tone that was no louder than a conversation.
“But do not fret, my wary heroes. Your end is not for me to decide. No, my friends, I am here for the intros. And you can consider me your guide.”
Lucas strode around the top of the pillar, speaking into the dust as it swirled. The picture of a showman, although dressed in light more than a dirty shirt and jacket.
“And now that you understand the way of this world, you may refer to me as The Guide. For I will be your navigator through the challenge that awaits.”
Pausing, Lucas froze for subtle seconds as he stared into the dust as though the obstruction wasn't there, before he continued, “But before we introduce the challenge, we must introduce the challenger!”
Lucas flourished with his hands, commanding the dust to part in a small section away from the base of the pillar.
“First, I must introduce the terribly wonderful ladies of the Blinded Scions of Slaanesh!”
The dust parted, revealing a gaggle of flamboyant crones sitting in a circle, with their leader stationed in the center. Startled by the sudden ability to move, many lurched to their feet, moving far easier than you would expect from elderly women.
“These wonderfully terrible ladies are more than meets the eye!” Lucas said with a snap of his fingers.
At Lucas’s command, the glamour of elderly women disappeared to reveal the true forms of the Blonded Scions of Slaanesh. They may have been humans at one point, but the deformed gifts of Slaanesh now mark each with the passionate remains of the colorful experiences bestowed upon them. Claws replaced hands, and wings grew at odd angles. Fleash was burnt, torn, flayed, and removed. None of them remained whole after their search for greater pleasures and pains led them to their advanced forms.
Lucas snapped his fingers again, causing the glamour to reappear before he said, “But who am I to ruin the surprise for our other contestants?”
Collecting her wits, Gertrude spoke to the man on the pillar, “Oh great, Daemon! Are you the Herald of the DARK PRINCE, come to deliver us for judgment after our great victory on E’Arth?”
Lucas winced and said, “Oh honey, I am no Daemon, but you can consider this judgment. As your past glory means nothing in the face of competition, head to head you will battle with the other fierce contestants."
“Oh Herald…” Gertrude began before Lucas gave a dismissing wave, commanding the dust to muffle her sounds.
“Enough with the cult of saggy tits and jism! We must introduce the next competitors!” Lucas said as he turned and commanded the dust to part in another quadrant around the pillar.
“I hold this team near and dear to my heart, as their Captain Valgard Twice-Slain of the Space Wolves was once my very own commander!”
As the dust departed, a unit of Space Marines appeared in their resplendent power armor, each carrying an assortment of deadly weapons.
“Hold on! Those aren’t Space Wolves! It seems we have a little surprise in the lineup!” Lucas said with sheer joy in his voice, “We have a real treat as I must welcome a true Death Watch KillTeam to the arena!”
Having regained control of their bodies, the Death Watch formed up behind their leader, bristling in anticipation of an attack. To the surprise of each Marine, their leader, Gransfor Bruk, stepped forward and lowered his shield as his visor snapped open to reveal his face to their capture.
“Lucas Strifeson, is that you?” Asked Grans.
A dumbfounded look crossed Lucas’s face as the sight of his old friend hit him like a bullet. He had never intended for his friends to join him in this mess, but it seems there is more at play than even the ringleader understood.
“Grans! What are you doing here? I went to great lengths to capture Valgard. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to sneak that much dust onto his ship without him knowing?”
“Ahhh. Lucas, I think you should be telling me why we are here.”
Lucas chuckled at the absurdity of Gransfor Bruk of all people appearing here.
“Well... You got me there. And don't worry, I will explain everything in time." Lucas said as he shook his head, "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to Valgard?”
——
Earlier aboard the Thunderclaw
“So we’re just gonna throw the Death Watch into the Warp Rift?” Ask Ulf Redmaw.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Yup. This is a two-Nids with one-bullet kind of thing.” Replied Valgard as he heaved the unconscious Grans into an airlock.
——
“Again, Lucas, you need to be answering the question here.” Replied Grans.
The smile returned to Lucas's face as he retook the initiative.
“Right, you are, Gransfor. And, with this small adjustment to the program, swapping out Space Wolves for Death Watch should be no issue”
"Great! So are you gonna get us the fuck out of here?"
"Ahhh. No, Grans, I can't just get you out of here. This is kind of a full-time commitment." Lucas mocked as he was again thrown off of his groove.
"What does that mean? Does this have something to do with you being blonde all of a sudden?"
Lucas sighed.
"No Grans. Well... Yes, but that is a topic for later." Lucas said as he waved his hand to silence the Death Watch section, leaving Grans to return to the defensive formation of his Death Watch squadron.
Lucas shook his head to clear away the stumble in his performance. After a year of planning, how could it go off so fast?
Regaining his momentum, Lucas turned and gestured for the dust to clear over a third area of the arena.
“It is a serious stroke of luck that our teams are unable to see each other through the dust, as our third contestant is a favored foe of the Death Watch! Without the barrier, these Waaagh! hungry Orks would definitely have helped themselves to a good thumping!”
Standing in a loose collection was a bunch of choppa-wielding Orks, including one a little bigger than the others and a Squig covered in bombs.
“WAAAGH!” Screamed the big one as the Squig took off running toward the pillar.
Dust still obscured the base of the pillar, but that did not discourage the Squid. As he approached the dust, an invisible boot seemed to stretch out and trip the bipedal creature, causing him to tumble the final meters into the dust. The Squig slammed into the dust with a crack, stopping him dead as though it was a solid metal wall and not floating motes of dust at all.
“Woah, there, you crazy little guy! We wouldn’t want you getting too excited and blowing up half your Kill Team on round one!” Lucas commented as he gave a familiar hand gesture to cut off the continued screams of WAAAGH!
“So much to do and so little time!” Lucas said to himself as he turned to the fourth quadrant.
“For our fourth contestants, I must admit that I consider this one a personal achievement of mine, as infiltrating The Phalanx is no small task!” Lucas said with another gesture.
The Dust parted to reveal a squadron of Imperial Fist Space Marines, identifiable by their distinct yellow-colored Power Armor. Like the Death Watch, the Imperial Fist moved into a defensive formation, but instead of talking, they let their heavy ordinance speak for them. Bullets flew towards Lucas in waves as the Space Marines unloaded.
Standfast, Lucas watched as the bullets slammed into individual motes of dust that fluttered in the air around him.
“And true to their history, these members of the Imperial Fist have a firey presence and short temper. They will be true contenders and ones to keep an eye on in the competition.” Lucas said, with another flick of his hand, drowning out the ring of gunfire.
Moving to the fifth quadrant Lucas performed the same ritual to part the dust.
“Now, these Space Marines are not the honorable type! Collected through trickery and an unknowing assist from the unholy tyrant Typhus, I present the recently Marked of Nurgle and his compatriots of the Chaos Legionnaires!”
Following the other Space Marine teams, the Chaos Legionnaires moved to a defensive formation with Dreggh, The Fated, stepping forward exactly as Grans had.
“As the Guide who will deliver me to my Fate, what do you mean recently Marked of Nurgle?” Asked Dreggh without lifting his visor.
“Oh, I am sorry. Did you not know?” Lucas asked with a smile, “Typhus, in his generous way, gave you a bit more than just the Warp Crystal, but your Psyker friend already knew that. He has one, too.”
Dreggh turned back to see his subordinate holding a flaming orb as he prepared for the aftermath of his treachery.
Lucas gave another flick of his hand to dull the screams coming from the Chaos Legion.
“Oh boy! This fallen legion could have such potential with their new backer, Nurgle! Let’s hope they survive each other to bring the Plague God’s might down upon our other contestants.”
Lucas stepped up to the final quadrant. The other five groups of contestants looked up at him from their evenly distributed gaps in the dust.
“It is a true honor to welcome one of the most powerful beings in the Imperium. Each of these heroes was hand-crafted by the Emperor himself, and yet, I, Lucas the Trickster, have delivered not one but three of these lions for your pleasure.” Lucas finished with a flare of his hands.
The dust parted over the final quadrant, revealing three gold-clad titans. Each held ornate custom weapons that gave off an aura of slaughter. Between the feet of the leading titan was a woman doing everything she could to shield a young boy from view.
“In the name of the Emperor of Man, I, Desmond Aetheus, am placing you under arrest for your crimes upon the Imperium.” Said the leading Custody.
A cold smile washed over Lucas’s face as he said, “Your god has no power here, Aquilan Shield. You and your brothers are the final contestants in a game outside of the mortal realm. And you, Custody, must participate, like every other competitor currently standing in the arena.
"You do not know who you are talking to, boy. You will soon find yourself in the Blackstone, never to see light again." Said Desmond.
The dust swarmed. Lucas hadn't moved, yet the dust collapsed in on the Custodies.
Lucas watched for minutes as he let the environment stripe the will from the self-righteous bodyguard. When the dust receded Desmond was on his knees, straddling the collapsed form of the young woman who didn't stir. Desmond scoped up the boy from his mother's embrace before Lucas turned away to collect himself.
“Now you must understand. There is no option. You are all contestants, and in this contest, there is no Imperium or Chaos Gods. There is only the arena.
The beings next to you are your only allies and your only hope for survival. Together, you must survive for 68 days in the barren lands around you."
Lucas held out his arms, allowing the dust to begin dropping. Visibility returned to the contestants as it coated the barren sanding in gold. Hiding within the dust were the ruins of a city abandoned long ago.
"To begin, each of your teams must survive by gathering the resources scattered among the ruins. Food, water, power, and shelter are yours to find, but this is an arena, so you must fight the other contestants if you wish to survive the first phase. Once you have established yourselves I will return to guide you on the path of survival because, without my assistance, none of you will ascend the pillar to leave the Warp."
A Warp Rift opened above Lucas's head. The Rift swirled with flashes of white, blue, and purple as it promised escape. Surrounding the Rift, the motes of dust danced in swaying lines, daring all contestants to challenge their might.
“Finally, I want to wish each of you good luck as you brave the elements and struggle for survival. Many of you will break before we reach the climax of the Arena of Stolen Heroes, but some may have the grit.”
With a pop, Lucas disappeared, and the dust holding back the contestants completed its fall to the ground.