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| Lost in the Warp, Hunted by The Thousand Sons, We Live to Fight Another Day, On Our Terms Chaos will Knee Before Us |
"This is what has become important. Not prowess. Not danger. Stability. Reliability. Fidelity. Without these things, no Chapter lives to exert influence. Successors - these are what our brothers aspire to create, to ensure that warriors of their temper flourish and endure, and to exclude those forged from a different metal."
"And do you suppose, Morek Karekborn, that the Vlka Fenryka have followed this path? Have we let ourselves be divided into successor Chapters as the Ultramarines, the Angels, or the Fists have done?"
"No," said Morek confidently. " We are different."
Wyrmblade shook his head.
"Not that different. We had a successor: the Wolfbrothers, led by Beor Arjac Grimmaesson. They were to have been as numerous as we were, and as powerful. They were gifted a home world, Kaeriol, a planet of ice and fire, just as Fenris is. They had half our fleet, half our armouries, half our Priests. They were to have been the first of many, a whole line of descendant Fenrisian Chapters - the Sons of Russ, capable of carving out star empire the size of Ultramar. That was the vision: to be powerful enough to encircle the Eye of Terror completely, to prevent the Traitors from daring to leave it ever again. Thus, it was hoped, we would fulfil our destiny and find a new purpose in the Age of the Imperium."
Morek looked up at the skull-mask of the Rune Priest. The vision he was being asked to absorb were coming too quickly. A glimpse of the galaxy was unfolding in his mind, radically different from the one he knew. Though he'd been off-world many times and see many wonders, this version of reality was the strangest of them all.
"What happened to them? The Wolfbrothers?"
"They are gone."
"Destroyed?"
"Not all some may yet live, though their wyrd is unknown. They were disbanded, scattered to the six points of the compass."
"Why?"
Wyrmblade drew in a deep, grating breath.
"For the same reason there can be no further successors to the Rout. The Wolf within. We are too dangerous to be copied. The heritage that makes us powerful also makes us unstable. The Brothers, located far from Fenris, fell quickly into the state of beasts. So it must be with any attempt to splice new growth from the gene-seed of Russ." Wyrmblade bowed his head. But then his eyes flashed in the dark, catching a stray of light from the fire.
"Until now."
Extract from "Battle Of the Fang" by Chris Wraight
