Word Bearers - 77th Host

'As the great Lorgar commands, so shall it be.'
With those words uttered, Kol Andar knew his fate to be sealed. His mind raged against the turn of events that brought him here; but in his heart of hearts, he felt at peace. For as the great Lorgar commands, so must it be.


---

The Word Bearers are one of the few Legions to remain a united force. Although they are split into many War Hosts, each commanded by a Dark Apostle, their highest leadership is the Dark Council, the unholy priesthood ruling as regents while the Daemon Primarch Lorgar meditates in seclusion. Such Hosts persist through centuries and millenia, with command passing from Apostle to Apostle. Sometimes, a Host is destroyed. And sometimes, a new one is formed. Such was the case for the 77th Host, created by the Dark Council to serve a secret purpose.

The omens surrounding this founding were ominous indeed. The Cicatrix Maledictum had just opened, ripping the galaxy in half. Moreover, the Council dictated that the new Host would bear the iconography of the Serrated Sun - a chapter of the original Legion long lost to the turbulence of the so-called Horus Heresy. This could be a good sign - this chapter had become the Gal Vorbak, the first Possessed - or a bad one - it was mostly wiped out and reformed under a different name.

Omens aside, the founding was of course meshed with the internal politics and power struggles of the Council. The new Host would contain its fair share of religious fanatics, drawn to the possibility of zealous bloodshed in the name of the Primarch. It would also contain madmen at the edge of sanity. And it would have plenty who were forced or punished to join.

All this and more flew through the mind of Kol Andar as he donned his desecrated Terminator armor. With the armor fused to his flesh in places, it was always painful to remove it. However, the rites of anointment had required him to wear only a robe. A supplicant must appear humble and submissive before the Dark Gods.

As he trudged towards the ceremony hall with heavy steps, the events that led him here flashed before his eyes again. His rise to prominence in the 34th Host. The praise given unto him by Dark Apostle Marduk. The rivalry with the Coryphaus - War-Captain - of the Host, the ancient Kol Badar. And the machinations by those two that saw him transferred to his new position. Granted, he always wanted to be Coryphaus of a Host. The title marked him out as a trusted and capable warrior, war leader and strategist. However, he always imagined himself inheriting the position in his own Host. Instead, he will now be serving a madman.

He reached the hall and took his position at the front of the Host. Everyone was present. The Anointed, the elite warriors garbed in Terminator armor, stood in the first ranks. Behind them knelt the bulk of the Host, divided into Coteries, each led by an Aspiring Champion. They awaited the entrance of their Dark Apostle.

Kol Andar knew his role well. During rites, he would be the voice of the Host, leading the chanted responses. In council, he would deliver the mood and opinion of the Host to the Apostle, who stood aloof above his warriors. In battle, he would direct the Host so that the Apostle himself could focus on communion with the Dark Gods and whipping up the zeal of his followers.

A Coryphaus should be close to his Dark Apostle.

Instead, Kol Andar hated the man.

Dark Apostle Styxius entered to the roaring adulation of the crowd. Kol Andar allowed himself a final thought: the man sure knew how to work his followers. After that, there was only the rite.

---

Styxius conducted the ceremony with all the zeal and devotion he could muster. The assembled Host chanted, roared and whispered, as lead by the Coryphaus.

Styxius was extatic. His faith and his devotion were finally recognized and rewarded by the Dark Council. He had finally received his own Host to command. And what a Host it was! Surely, the mission to be entrusted upon him was of utmost importance, for the warriors assembled were great in number, and the ships that would carry them held daemon engines and other warmachines aplenty in their holds.

Styxius basked in the adoration of his followers. He never considered himself to have personal ambition; all he ever did was aimed to please the Dark Gods. This meant, logically, that he would need a position high in the hierarchy of the Legion, so that he could please the Gods better. And were the Gods not more important than anything? No price was too high to please them. Therefore, no price was too high to place Dark Apostle Styxius in a position of power in the Legion.

Of course, there were those who did not understand. Those who accused him of gathering personal power. Those who accused him of madness, even. Bah! Sanity is for the weak.

He raised his Accursed Crozius, and surveyed the crowd during a moment of silence.

Yes, they would follow him.

He swung his mace in a downward motion, caving in the chest of the man kneeling in front of him. The corpse cried out, then shriveled to black ash. The other sacrifices to be - all 76 - began the chant anew, raising their voices in praise of the Dark Gods. Styxius smiled. They had been chosen well.

There was just one thing that bothered the newly anointed Dark Apostle. But that could wait. The rite was all that mattered now.

---

Scant hours before, another ceremony took place in private. The new Coryphaus swore fealty to the new Dark Apostle, receiving in turn his unholy blessing. Kol Andar knelt in front of Styxius wearing a black robe embroidered with the eight-fold star of Chaos. The two moved methodically through the ceremony: this was no time for idle chat. They had never met before; not this close, anyway. Their eyes met for only a second, but that moment instantly established the mutual hatred between them.

How dare this upstart disrespect his Dark Apostle with that look? How dare he twist the gestures and words of the rite to convey just that hint of insolence? He should grovel and beg for forgiveness!

Styxius knew that the man in front of him hated him. He also knew that they needed each other, at least for the present. Although he did expect a veteran with greater standing and experience to be named as his War-Captain, this youngling would do. After all, he had quickly risen to prominence and joined the Anointed of his Host, becoming an Aspiring Champion soon after. His squad of Terminators was especially effective against loyalist Astartes, driven as they were by their hate of the False Emperor. In battle with the infamous Blood Angels, they destroyed war machine after war machine, standing with contemptuous ease against the elite Sanguinary Guard and their warp-spawned Sanguinor. Teleporting time and time again into the midst of battle, their concentrated plasma fire brought down the fliers of the sons of Russ and Guilliman. Not even an Imperial Knight could hold out against their relentless assault.

Yes, Styxius needed him. But he would either bend to the will of the Dark Apostle, or he would die.

---

Kol Andar knew that the Dark Apostle knew. He exerted superhuman effort not to offend him outright, but could not help himself. By twisting an inflexion here, a tense there just so, he conveyed, besides swearing eternal fealty of course, just a hint of disrespect and intolerance. After all, he hated the man.

The hunger for power and the desire to please the Gods was ingrained in every Word Bearer. Even the Dark Council had its internal politics, with First-Captain Kor Phaeron and First-Chaplain Erebus constantly maneuvering against each other. But Styxius did so at the expense of his warriors. Kol Andar was not a stranger to sacrifice, even if it came to members of his own Coterie, but he never did so except as a last resort. Each and every Word Bearer was an ancient warrior, most having been alive at the time when Lorgar Aurelian still strode the stars with his sons. They were all precious. But not to Styxius. In the opening days of the so-called Dark Imperium, his and another Host attacked an Imperial world, each racing to the Governor's palace to enact an unholy ritual there. Lagging behind the other Host, Styxius - then just an acolyte - resorted to desperate measures, sacrificing his own warriors to the Dark Gods. The Gods decided to listen, and the daemons spilling into realspace decided the battle then and there, allowing the remnants of the Host to march unimpeded right into the palace. Styxius was hailed a hero. And Kol Andar hated him even more.

---

The two of them stood before the Dark Council, now garbed in their armor, ready to do battle. It chafed at Styxius that he did not receive their mission alone. It amused Kol Andar slightly - perhaps we was meant to restrain his Apostle? Of course, they hid their emotions. The Dark Council demanded absolute attention and obedience.

Kor Phaeron stood, and so did the rest of the Council. Kol Andar froze to rigid attention. Styxius gave a sweeping bow. The elder priest began to describe their unholy quest...