Roaring Green hellfires and Hellish Warpspawn crawling up from the blasphemous summoning circles his former Librarian comrades drew of the once pure soil. Mouths with uncountable teeth stretcthed impossibly wide as they eagerly locked eyes with whatever loyalist prey they could find. 
Inhuman screams coupled with the endless stream of munitions being launched from both sides. It was truly amazing on its own that the loyalists even knew who to shoot with many of the heretics still wearing Blood Raven colours and hereldry on their armour. He remembered Standing At the Angel Gate of the Great forge world Meredian. His Bright blue armour clearly marked him as the leader amongst the squad of crimson and bone white warriors sorrounding him. The large force staff in his hand, topped with a golden Aquila and the shaft carved from the rarest fo woods inspired and filled the loyal hearts of Astartes and Guardsman alike with righteous fervor and purpose. 

He was ordered by what remained of the highly confused Chapter command not to let anything, NOTHING, past them into the hive city proper. For if that were to happen the entire populace would have to he purged by exterminatus and all their efforts to save these billions of lives would be for naught. So with a full squad of men and a company of the bravest guardsman he will ever have the honour of knowing. The Blood Raven's stood firm and silent, there was nothing to be said to inspire these men more than loyal citizens being cut down. Nothing to stir their hearts more than the sting of betrayal by once close friends. 

In Stoic silence They faced down wave after wave of Heretics, Common man cultists crazed to the point of sheer stupidity and mindlessness by the corrupting powers of the arch-enemy. Mercilessly they were cut down by the droves, mowed and sawn in half by the roaring fire of the Imperial guard auto-cannons and Astarte's bolter fire. But event this was just a prelude to the attempts of their traitor brotheren. Any feelings of comraderie or hesitation to shoot those who only days ago had been their closest freinds was evaporated by the sights deeds they had done in the name of chaos. They were butchered and left to rot on the ground like the filthy cultists they used as fodder. 

But Even as the traitors fell their deamon masters remained. By the Emperor's grace or sheer iron will that Even he as a space marine could be envious of those few guardsman that survived the onslaught of the Chaos marines stayed sane in the face of these unrelenting horrors long enough to be cut down by Scything talons and claws that could rend a Land raider's plating. Lazaros fought in more campaign than he cared to count, and never has his mental abilities been pushed so far to their limits. He was trying to hold as much of his powers in reserve but as bolters ran dry from their last clips and his brothers were reduced to knives as the warp flesh continued to surge around them Lazaros had no choice. Soon the very air came alive with Electricity and fire. Great wreaths of flame sorrounding his fists as he seemingly ignored the force staff in his hands and simply lashed out, each blow setting another deamon ablaze and then Screeches designed to demoralize and instill fear turned into screams of pain and fear. When he did finally Use his Staff it was to Cave in the skull of a bloodletter that saw only a hated sorcerer and not a potent enemy. It's body cackled and burst with Subsquent bolts fo lightning arching out and cooking those deamons in the imediate vicinity. 

It wasn't until he felt a creeping presence in his mind that he jerked upright and all but ignored battle his brothers were raging against the deamons. “Sorcerer” He growled with hatred, it was a recognized presence as well. “Brother Ezekiel.” He growled again. But there was an undertone to this, almost mournful and saddenned by the truth. The deamons seemed to ignore him and turn and focus on his remaining brothers. And there indeed was his old and trusted friend. They were recruited together, they were scouts together and they even had the fortune to both join the librarium. “There will be no taking sense into you my brother?” He locked eyes with the former Librarian and removed his helmet and let it fall from his grasp into the ankle deep puddle of gore and blood. The helmet seemed to float it was so thick and was carried away several inches. “No one is beyond Redemption.” he tried vainly to appeal to Ezekial. He knew long speeches and Grandios words would not work on him. If there was one thing Ezekial was it was stubborn. So he kept his appeal short and simple. But he didn't have high hopes. Sure enough his appeal was met only by laughter. But this wasn't the usual deep and booming chuckle of his old friend. A sound filled with friendship and heartiness. This was hollow and shrill. His eyes were different as well, Gone was the piercing gaze and shrewd intelligence. “Ezekial has given himself over to the Chaos gods little one.” He grinned evily as if amused by the small stature of Lazaros. 
“He has embraced chaos fully and is subject to the greatest of our honours.” He flashed a wide grin to show teeth that have somehow sharpened themselves to wicked points. Even as he spoke the very flesh of his face seemed to bulge and writhe as of a thousand tiny worms were digging their way beneath his skin. Of all the fate's to befall a psyker. He could imagine none worse than possession. To lose control of one's self completely, Even in a chaos deluded state he knew Ezekial would not have wanted this fate for himself. He was a man who liked to be in control of his own mind and skills. 

The deamons words made Lazaros's heart fall even further into his chest, and they also brought a fiant mental smirk to his lips. Already this deamon was underestimating him. An act of overconfidence that would be his folly. 

Lazaros simply sank to the ground and kneeled with his planted in the ground and both hands grasping it in a white knuckle grip. It was the tpye of kneel one would make to a lord or master, or the type of kneel a librarian used when focusing his powers. All around him his brothers shouted in concern and some in outrage as what they perceived as submitting to the enemy. They were being overwhelmed as it was, Even if Lazaros didn't sumbit to chaos he knew it would only be a matter of time before his position was completely overwhelmed and the Arch-enemy would be free to pray upon the hive cities innocents. So he did the only thing he could think of to spare the lives of billions. His brothers could think of him as they will for they would probably not survive the coming moments any more than he himself would. 

The deamon host laughed in its apparant victory as yet another psyker so meekly seemed to give in to despair. He strode forward and the deamon throng parted to admit him. He was a handful of steps away from claiming yet another soul when he felt a tightness in his limbs. The deamons and heretics around him seemed to slow as well, some started grasping their heads as blood leaked from their eyes and ears. The pain was clearly written on their faces but it was to overwhelming to express into a scream. From around brother Lazaros Lighting bolts arched out from his staff, striking randomly at whatever chaos ifnused host was near. Killing and setting everything it touched ablaze. Both Hate and heat seemed to radiate from the Librarian. Sheer unbridled Fury and rage at the situation sorrounding him. At this friends corruption, at his chapters ruination. With a full throated growl he Rose to his feet. Despite him being a good deal shorter than Ezekial he seemed to purely and utterly dominate that area in sheer force of presence and will. His growling seemed to echo impossibly loud. At a volume and vibrating frequency no normal voice, even the most trained Chaplain should have been able to reproduce. He lifted his force staff and held it with both hands at the base as if it was some primitive club. The Roar finally ended and Once more Lazaros locked eyes with Ezekial's body and whatever was controlling him. He knew that somewhere he still had to be alive for the possession to work. His eyes seemed slightly reddened and not just with bloodshot exhaustion. Moisture was threatening to leak from th corners of his eyes and in another minute he may just have committed an act he had not done in over a hundred and fifty years. With a voice filled with genuine sorrow “I'm sorry brother.” and he slammed the head of the staff down onto the gore stained ground between them with all his mental and physical strength. 

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

The Sorcerer screamed and raged against his confines. He was one of the few remaining turned Librarians. Once their brother he was now an experiment for the remaining true librarians needs. Again and again he was mentally probed, tortured, physically burned and scarred. His eyes had long since been branded from his skull and his powers were kept nullified by use of a special collar that dampened psykic powers. He was one of many such captives that were brought before the Librarium to be questioned. Those the surviving codicers were finished with were handed off to one of three surviving chaplains to be 'redeemed' of their corruption before executed. Most minds had devolved completely. Offering no useful information beyond useless gabbering in some foul heretic tongue that stung the ears. One turned and somehow captured Epilistory however managed to give some interesting information. He claimed to have been told this by the traitor Azariah Kyras himself. And that the Eveidence to support it was clearly and happily offered by the forces of chaos. It was a shocking truth, Just a small tibit that could potentially lead to an even greater understanding of their once glorious's chapters history. Just probable and beleivable enough not to be dismissed as the mad ramblings of a heretic. 

The newly appointed master of sanctity. Was the only non librarian that was allowed to view these interrogations. Even he was skeptic and shocked by what he had heard. As each interrogation continued for hours and hours. All of the surviving Librarians and the Chaplain looked to eachother, each new that this must be studied further before made public to the rest of the chapter. And the Inquisition would definalty not be told about this. They were under close enough scrutiny as it was without them screamed to the high lords for a chapter wide extermination. It took every ounce of diplomacy they had to prevent that already and still they were unsure of what this Inquisitor would do once she left the subsector. 

Without ceremony or 'Redemption' The traitor psyker had a bolter round put through the back fo his head and his body was completely and utterly incinerated before the ashes themselves were scattered into space. All assembled agreed not to mention this to anyone Save their new chapter master. If this was true. It would bring new light and sense to the Artifacts and secrets found on Kronus years before.

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

He sighed heavily as he looked out from the window of the Litany of Fury some hours later. one of the last remaining battle barges the chapter had at its disposal. The destruction he saw on the planet below was visible even from this high orbit. The once great forge world was decimated in the recent chaos and tyranid incursions. He also felt a sense of pride as he new that many of his remaining brothers were on this planets surface and several others both mopping up pockets of enemy resistance and helping the Citizens of the Sector rebuild. The blood Ravens at least were wise enough to realize that they were nothing without their home worlds. And Their only purpose was to better the lives of the Imperium's citizens. However that may be. Some brothers from other Astarte's chapters he had met had hearts so iron clad they could only see war and death. Willing to let a thousand citizens die if it meant they alone could claim glory at killing some arch heretic. Conveiniently forgetting that without the regular citizens their would be no purpose to a space marine's exsistance. Lazaros breathed deeply again. Maybe it was his training as a Librarian that taught him to think in a broader sense than his more mundane compatriots. Or or the Blood Raven's geneseed as a whole, But he still liked to think that despite becoming an Astarte's or maybe because of it, He still had a soul. 

He finally tore his gaze away from the window. He was dissapointed that he was not alongside his remaining and loyal brothers, purging the Heretical filth that once masked themselve's as true Blood Ravens. The simple thought of that betrayal filled his mouth with ash and put a terrifying scowl across his face. As if realizing where his thoughts were leading him he took a second to calm himself and breath. He let the memories invade his thoughts for a brief second. He had no idea what transpired near the end of the fighting at Angel gate. when the apothocaries and came upon the scene. He was told that there was nothing living in a hundred metre radius around his limp body. The gore was as practically thick and deep as a swamp marsh, There was no trace of deamons, their bodies simply evaporated and banished by the psykic blast. Those two Battle brothers who survived the fighting along with the corpses of their fellows had their armour singed and marred with a blackish char. They to were knocked unconcious by the blast. As for Ezekial their was no official way to identify his body save the now empty armour that was mearly acting as a hollow shell now that its former occupant was turned to complete ash. He was at least thankful that he completed his mission and nothing living, not heretic or deamon managed to push their way past him and his squad. His memory ended when he caught sight of his once former brother, then everything was infuriatingly blank in his memory. 

He pushed those thoughts aside for now and focused on his future. He was at least clad in his personal armour. A suit of honoured MkV heresy pattern. Easily repairable, simple in construction and reliability. Maybe it was a hair weaker than the MkVI or VII. But it was also the only suit of armour that was made small enough by some miracle to fit someone of his stature. Besides, after over a hundred it became a part of him as much as any appendage. He was comfortable in wearing it and the way it moved. He was however without his customary force staff and Bolt pistol. His force staff was reportadly ruined and found as charred his armour, still smoking and hot to the touch. The once proud aquila that spread its glorious wings atop this masterful creation was nothing more than a puddle of molten slag nearly obscured and unnoticed beneath the blood. Not that he would have been able to take it along with him anyway. Deathwatch apparantly has it's own armouries and preffered weapons for its members to use.
 From what he had read in the chapters records and first person accounts deathwatch service was going to be..... interesting. He was tempted to refuse this offer outright but he could see the wisdom in this. After nearly ten years of constant purgagtion of orc and tyranid footholds and planet falls. His chapter had seen more action in ten years than in the past fiftey. There was not a man among their number who could not call himself a veteran of ork or Tyranid warefare now. And at least have passing knowledge of appropriate tactics to use against these hated foes. Such experience could be invaluable to deathwatch and by extension the Imperium. 

But it would also do well to make a public face for the chapter. Word of this crusade and his chapter masters betrayal would leak for beyond their sector soon enough. Many already criticized the Blood Raven's fo their near Company sized Librarium. Saying it was ripe for corruption and mutation. In the end of course it was partly the remaining librarians that held the command structure of the company together. And who were the most effective fighters against the mass warpspawn and cultist swarms. But it would do the chapter good for the rest of the Imperium to see a strong and uncorrupted Psyker belonging to the chapter. One that would do serious good for the Imperium. To at least soften the blow when the Aurelian crusade inevitably became common knowledge and his chapter was openly criticized, yet again. The surprising part was this was the idea of the Inquisitor herself. A chance to prove their strength and worth despite their horrific loses and betrayal. It seemed that maybe she finally saw some sense in the continuation and survival of another Space marine chapter in the Imperium. Especially with the 13th crusade making its first forray's out of the eye of terror. If nothing else maybe she just thought that the Imperium could use every possible advantage it could get its hands on. She was probably right.

So as much as he wanted to stay with his brothers and rebuild. They must not appear so weakened by this that they cannot even spare one marine to fuffill their ancient Oaths of service. He he started the long walk through the battle damaged halls to the Thunderhawk bay. He also new why he was being chosen for this. Out of all the surviving librarians he was the youngest and the least skilled. This was not a point of shame for him. Deathwatch candidates rarely lived long enough to return home. And if such a blow is to be dealt to the chapter they may as well try to minimize the damage. He could respect his chapter's decision in this regard. 

When they say an Astartes is immune to fear. That he cannot feel those long cold fingers of dread grip his mind and and he his able to break away that icy grip and focus on nothing but his end goal. They are only partially right. As Brother Lazaros recently discovered a space marine only learns to suppress his own fears. Those debilitating thoughts that are directed towards himself. Brother Lazaros feared several things, He feared for the future of his chapter. For the Aurelian Crusade now won took its devestating toll on the chapter and their home. It would take centuries for the Blood Raven's to regain the strength of arms and numbers they once had and the Aurelian sector to rise to the same prosperity it once new. He also feared for the common humans, the nameless citizens that most space marines simply ignored as beneath their contempt and notice. For their livlihoods and now uncertain futures. He feared for the Poverty and desease that will run rampant in years to come while the new Govenor tries to instill order across the sub-sector. Relief forces, a near constant Imperial Guard presence until the decimated PDF forces can be rebuilt. And of course their would be lingering ork and Tyranid forces to put down. Miles and miles of land to purge of taint. And heretics by the score to put to the sword. 

His thoughts were re-directed as he stepped into the bay and aside from the Pitch black Gunship he was warned would be waiting for him. There was also the remnants of the Librarium gathered to see him off. He was touched by their display. Usually the corresponding company gathered to see their battle brother off to Deathwatch service. Considering the remnants of the chapter was barely able to call itself a company and were much to busy bringing order to the sector. These men were his closest colleagues and might as well be considered his company. No words were said aloud between them. All of their goodbyes were shared through telepathy, he felt their sadness at the almost certain possibility of losing yet another Blood Raven, never to be seen again. And they felt his sorrow at having to leave them behind for the sake of publicity. 

As he was finishing embracing the last of his brothers, his inhibitions about such acts dissapeared. If he might never see them again in this life. He may as well make the most of it. Besides They have shared to much blood and sweat in the last decade. Each surviving member of the chapter was a brother in nearly every sense now. They had all fought and earned respect for their actions. “By the Emperor's grace our most important artifacts seem to have survived on board the flagship.” these were the first and only physically spoken words of the meeting. They were spoken by the new Defacto Chief Librarian. The only Elpository to survive and stay loyal. He held a parchment wrapped bundle in his hands and gently opened the Parchment to Reveal the “Hate of Xeno's” The revered Plasma pistol that was by tradition handed to each Blood Raven as they left for a tour in the Deathwatch. It was both an honour to receive and a kind of uplifting promise that was being made. After all he had to survive his service in order to return this pistol in person and hand it to the next Battle Brother personally. He gingerly reached out and wrapped his large hand around the hallowed weapon's grip. The parchment was a protective scroll from the Librarium's archives and this was gingerly rolled by one of the Codicers and secured against his right greave. A momento for him to document his discoveries and any knowledge his oaths of service would allow him to bring back to the chapter to add to their already considerable bank. 

The pistol itself was an old and heavy piece. Dating back centuries to the first Blood Raven to ever take up the oath of service. It was responsible for the death of scores of eldar and probably untold hundreds of tyranids and orks over the last thousand years. One could feel the strength and the wisdom of its venerable spirit, even with all his mental abilities and psykic power, a power that had the potential to eclipse all machines, The strongest of his kind could rip battleships from the very sky and shred predator tanks in half with a flick of the wrist. And he was still in awe of some of the ancient weapons of the Blood Raven's arsenal. "Strike a blow to our enemies" the chief Librarian said and reached out a hand to place on Lazaros's shoulder. "And Show the Galaxy we are not so crippled they may assume." He bowed low before the assembled group. There was nothing more he could think of to express his gratitude that they would take their time to see him off even when there was so much to do and the entire chapter was running ragad and dangerously low on sleep and food, even for space marines. In return the Librarians said nothing themselves. There was no more to say. Lazaros simply turned on his heels and didn't look back as he strode up the ramp into the black gunship. 

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

The Ride was uneventful and silent. The few black clad marine's on board the gunship who were escorting him said nothing in the way of greetings or salutations. And in return none was offered by Lazaros. He was content to stay in the gunship and let himself meditate on prayers or simply as a focus for his mind's eye. 

He stayed in silent meditation for the entire journey and only opened his eyes when he felt the slight jarring of the Thunderhawk landing and the metallic “Thump” of the metal Struts landing on a metal Floor. Sure enough the ramp hissed and DE-pressurized before lowering slowly to reveal the inside of yet another Battle-barge Like many in the Space marine's service across the Imperium. He rose and followed his silent escort down the ramp to the ship proper. He got know more than a half dozen paces before he saw a small command cadre judging by the apparel of the two Astarte's at its head and the impressive Psykic power he felt from the Librarian behind them. He turned to face them, offering his own hand in light-hearted greeting when he felt his once silent escorts grab his arms, Both commanders and the two marines escorting them drew their firearms and hand them pointed at his chest and gut. 

“Fear not Brother, I am Librarian Archilochus Son of the Novamarine's.” The feel of telepathic communication was familiar. And it was delivered smoothly. Whoever this librarian was he was skilled in the arts, there was no discomfort or pain on the receiving end. “This is simple policy. We cannot allow anyone to continue into our halls and our service without first searing by their Life, honour and the honour of their chapter for complete and utter silence on what transpires during your service here. There are secrets you will see that must never be discussed or alluded to, Outside the hull of this vessel.” he let that message sink in for a few seconds as Lazaros ceased his struggling briefly. What this Archilochus said made some sense. And he knew from records of previous brothers to fulfil their oaths that a vow a silence was customary. “I ask you to swear by the Emperor and your... Chapter” he was going to say primarch but them remembered who he was talking to. “Do you accept this vow?” Lazaros focused of this man. Like him himself this librarian was wearing a helmet so it was impossible to see the expressions in his eyes. But from the feel and emotion of his mental voice he believed him to be truthful. He decided to take a chance and trust in his fellow Astarte's. No matter what chapter they belonged to.

 “I do swear by Emperor and Chapter to Uphold and maintain my silence upon matters pertaining to my missions and activities relating to the safety of the Imperium and Deathwatch.” He returned the mental message with a calm air as if he was not being restrained and held at gunpoint. 

The Novamarine seemed to study him in turn but eventually seemed to nod to the Commanders who were patiently awaiting word on the outcome of the mental debate. Weapons lowered a fraction of an inch and Lazaros thought this pointless display of lethality over when he heard a second sentence. It was spoken in a tone that was oddly familiar but he could not explain why. The words only said. “I'm sorry brother” With genuine honesty. He heard a pair of heavy boots approach and the hum of a Narcethium being powered up. He could only assume he was continuing to be held hostage because he would not approve of what would be coming next. If he answered the oath in some unsatisfactory way they did not bother to tell him or give him a chance to amend his words.

 “Treachery!” he roared back mentally and seemed to throw off the two men holding him as he gave a burst of mental power that briefly caught the Novamarine unawares and sent his 'escorts' and the apothecary flying to the ground a couple feet away. He even managed a single thundering step forward that echoed throughout the entire loading bay before he was overwhelmed mentally once again and unable to do anything more than breath and let his heart continue to pump. His chest heaved with the mental battle being waged. “You would lie to me brother?” he let his own feelings of betrayal fill the mind of Archilochus. He spoke as if he understood the thoughts filling Lazaros's mind. “i have not betrayed you brother. What must happen to you has already happened to me and every librarian that has come before you. And in time you may even be called upon to oversee this act on a fellow brother as I must do now. If you are loyal and stay loyal through your service there is nothing to fear any it will even be removed. But we cannot risk your or my corruption on the field. This must happen to keep those afraid of us appeased.” again Lazaros could sense to deception or falsehood in his tone. It was hard to hide ones feelings from a fellow psyker. There was a bond of shared pain and understanding that went beyond what a normal battle brother must endure.

 if anyone else was aware of this telepathic back and forth they did not show it. The apothecary simply picked himself up from the ground and expunged a syringe from his wrist mounted medical array. This needle was quickly injected into the neck of Lazaros before a larger psykic blast could be released. Two marines were quick to jump forward and catch the unconscious body. The commanders barked out their orders and he was carried to the ships Apothecary bay to undergo surgery. 

Nearly a full day later he was meditating in a small cell. By all means such a small and spartan space was not unknown to a space marine. Private quarters, for those of high enough rank to warrant them were little more than this in his chapter. A flat and hard bed, room enough to kneel though it was lacking the usual shelf for a private altar or to display some personal relic or accolade that one liked to keep close. 

Ever since he awoke in this quite and he could well imagine out of the way location he focused on meditation to calm himself and any feelings of anger or resentment he had. They would do nothing to benefit his cause and only destabilize him in combat if he allowed them to continue. For the first time in his life he was without the comfort of his psykic abilities. They were being suppressed by some form of implant. Usually suppressive collars were used. Actual implants able to perform this action were rare but he supposed that if anyone had access to them. It was the inquisition. The only reason he knew it was there at all from from the splitting pain at the base of his skull, that and the unsubtle commands it was relaying into his mind. He could imagine it was also designed to kill him if he became to unruly. 

While this was certainly insulting to his pride and honour as an Astarte's. He supposed he couldn't really be to surprised. The inquisition had a pathological fear of anything and everything psychic. What worried him more than the sudden empty feeling of his mind. Was that even his beloved armour and the relic pistol of his chapter. was removed from his person. That made him feel truly exposed but like all blood Raven librarians, he was a commander of men just as much as a psyker. Which meant he was long accustomed to keeping his face stoic and calm despite the happenings around him. For now the implant seemed to be only telling him to sit tight and pray. By his best guess he was already doing that for nearly a whole standard day but he might as well make best use of this time. He combined prayer with meditation. Asking the Emperor for the wisdom and knowledge to help him decipher the secrets of his chapter, of the disturbing truths made aware to the remaining librarium members only short days before. He also prayed for the strength and endurance to overcome the challenged he would face during his service in the deathwatch. And the ability to unravel the secrets he would undoubtedly expose. He could only assume that was the purpose of assigning psykers to an order such as this. To unravel that which would only confuse a more mundane brother. There were some secrets that would forever remain invisible to those without a minds eye. 

If he could find one good piece of information to take away from this experience it is that they seem to have clad him in a dark grey jump suit, similar to the one worn by initiate's and astarte's when they weren't wearing their armour during prayer or cleansing their wargear. So at least he wasn't naked. That was something he could be thankful for at the very least.