Chapter One: Banishment

The halls of the Imperial Palace trembled as Abaddon the Despoiler, Warmaster of Chaos Undivided, at long last stalked through it's halls. Each footfall of his terminator armored boots left a small crater in the once pristine halls. He raised his right hand and slowly let the Talon of Horus scrape almost lovingly along the walls of of the palace, leaving blackening claw marks that tainted and imbued the halls with the essence of Chaos. As he walked, he kept the Daemon Sword Drach'nyen firmly held infront of him, slicing through all the protective psyker wards put in place to protect the inner sanctum. He left corpses of the Adeptus Custodes, the Corpse-Emperor's companions and bodyguards, in his wake.

Finally, at long last, he laid his eyes upon the golden shining throne suspended midair over a large staircase, far below it a sealed gate into the warp, and it's final defender; Abaddon's lips peeled back into a sinister grin as his harsh voice echoed through the room. "Roboute Guilliman."

The son of the Emperor narrowed his eyes, the Emperor's Sword held ignited in his hand. "You dare to come before the throne of my father, traitor?"

"I come before the throne of a corpse, Primarch," spat Abaddon, his Daemon Sword glowing with dark a reality shattering chaotic power, "I will destroy the last pure son of the Emperor, then I will march up these steps, and stare down upon the frail form of the Corpse-Emperor before I lift him and cast him from his throne."

Then come, lost child of Man, come before your Emperor.

Both Abaddon and Roboute froze at the voice of pure raw power filled the air. Suddenly, Abaddon's confidence faltered, as he felt the focus of an immense power upon him. It was just a rotting corpse he tried to tell himself, it couldn't possibly still maintain some kind of sentience, yet... the strength in the voice emitting from the throne was unlike almost anything he had ever felt before, save for the Chaos Gods themselves, but this was no power of chaos. It was imperial purity from a time so long forgotten. It had been countless years since he had last stood before the Emperor of Mankind, back when he was whole in body and spirit. It brought back memories of times best left forgotten.

Why? came the voice again, Why forget the days when you were pure, Ezekyle? When you were a champion of mankind along with your father, my beloved son Horus.

Abaddon narrowed his eyes, glaring past Roboute at the golden light of the throne. "Horus was a fool, letting victory slip through his fingers, and he was not my father anymore than you are my Emperor."

He felt sad consideration fill the air before the Emperor spoke again. Perhaps not, but while Horus was not your father by birth, you once considered him to be, and loved him as one, did you not?

Abaddon scowled, clenching his hand tightly around his blade. "I was a young fool then. And I have lived long enough in the past, its time to bury it, forever."

He felt as if eyes were washing over him, judging, considering. Come and try. Roboute my son, stand aside.

Roboute was flabbergasted, his terminator armor half turning as he stared up at the golden throne. "But father! You cannot defend yourself!"

Can't I?

Suddenly, an unknown factor registered in Abaddon's mind. COULD the Emperor of Mankind, rotting corpse or not, actually fight back? Use his considerable powers in anything but maintaining the Astronomican? This was something he had not considered in the breaking of Terra and the siege of the palace, the power of the Emperor himself. He acknowledged for once, a deep fear in him, of challenging the Emperor, before dismissing it. The corpse was a rotting shell of it's former self, even if it could attack him, it wasn't anywhere near the full power that the living Emperor had once held.

He stalked fearlessly past the hesitant Primarch, showing his back and DARING him to attack, before he began to ascend towards the throne.

You were once a champion of Man, before you followed my son into his madness and into Chaos. It is not to late to seek forgiveness, to wash away the taint of the Ruinous Powers and assume a mantle of Order.

Abaddon stopped ascending for a moment, flabbergasted. "You cannot be serious."

Even for all your crimes, there is absolution and forgiveness if you have but the courage to seek it.

For a moment, Abaddon allowed the absurd idea to continue. "You would show mercy, to me?"

Many forget that I did not want to kill Horus, that even as he maimed my body I still loved him. Still would have forgiven him and welcomed him back had he but asked.

Abaddon slowly shook his head and ascended the rest of the stairs, finally laying his eyes upon the Corpse on the Throne. "Then you are a fool, and when I kill you, give my regards to the Chaos Gods as they tear your soul apart in the warp."

He raised the Talon of Horus into the air, and made to bring it down as Roboute shouted in horror, "Father!"

Then the Talon froze midair, gripped by an invisible force. He felt it a split second later, the Chaos Gods felt it a split second later, as the Emperor of Mankind turned his attention and full power from maintaining the Astronomican and preventing the powers of Chaos from spilling into Terra. In that moment, Abaddon felt true, unbridled, fear. For a split second, the Corpse upon the Throne changed, it was no longer a rotting body, but the visage of the Emperor in his full glory, wrath unlike anything Abaddon had ever seen playing across his face.

You dare to spurn my mercy? After all you've done to your fellow Man, I still offer you one last chance and you attempt to strike me down. No more Abaddon, no more. No more shall you plague this world, no more Black Crusades shall you lead against the Imperium of Man!

"You cannot kill me!" roared Abaddon, "I am the Warmaster of Chaos, empowered by all four of the Chaos Gods! You cannot destroy my soul as you did Horus's. They have learned, and even if you strike me down here and now, I will return by the will of Chaos."

The Emperor's visage studied him for a moment, before continuing on as if his words were a mild inconvenience. If you cannot be destroyed, than you will be banished, exiled, to a place where Chaos cannot touch nor empower you. Perhaps there you will think upon your failings and find a new purpose in life.

"There is no such place in the galaxy," spat Abaddon, "Chaos is everywhere and all encompassing, everything is marked and touched in some way by it's power."

Then, the Emperor had the audacity to smirk. I did not say it was in this galaxy.

It took Abaddon a moment to catch on as the Emperor's form began to shine with glorious power. "Wait-NO!"

Then in a flash of light, Abaddon was gone...

...and suddenly found himself falling through the air and slamming into the ground, hard. He laid there for a time, stunned, as an undeniable fact repeated itself through his head. He could not feel Chaos, he could not feel the Ruinous Powers. Could not feel Tzeentch's cunning treachery. Khorn's might and desire for bloodthirst and carnage and war. Nurgle's unending virulence running through his veins giving him pestilent resilience, nor Slaanesh's perverse pleasures. Even the powers of Drach'nyen seemed diminished, the daemon presence within it gone. It was like a gaping hole in his mind, body, and soul...

But Abaddon was no weakling nor lost little lamb to mewl for a higher power to guide him. He had never given himself fully over to Chaos for a specific reason, as such, even if he was a Chaos warped entity, he was capable of existing without their direct power. Though the gifts they gave him would wane in time, he would still be a formidable warrior, unparalleled by anything not at least as strong as a Primarch. He would pick himself up, he would find out where the hell the Emperor had thrown him, he would find his way back, and he would yet have revenge on the Corpse-Emperor.

He dug the Talon of Horus into the ground and pushed himself up, his terminator armor creaking with effort. He looked around slowly, finding himself in the middle of a forest...

...with what looked like some kind of armored tank rushing right at him!

Abaddon gave a grunt as it slammed into his armor, sending him staggering for a moment before he growled in irritation. He raised the Talon of Horus and drove it right through the middle of the tank and ripping it out its innards...

...along with a metal man!

He stared at it, flabbergasted, at one of the most shunned, abominable, damned things according to the Imperium. Artificial Intelligence had been banished and forbidden for so long, before even his own birth ten thousand years ago. Any worlds that employed it were to be put to the torch. He may not follow the tenants of the Imperium, but he loathed these things as much as the next Space Marine, Chaos or otherwise.

He swung his blade, severing the top half of the tank-no, troop transport in half, watching the metal men fall out. With amusingly slow speed, the metal men unfolded themselves, straightened, and began firing lasers at him. They pinging harmlessly off his terminator armor, and with a few cleaves of his sword, the metal men were destroyed. He saw other troop transports plowing through the woods, otherwise ignoring him.

He was not to be ignored.

With a bestial roar, Abaddon burst at the nearest transport, severing it in half with one blow of his mighty blade. Drach'nyen did not need reality warping powers to tear through the pitiful armor of these things. He leaped from one to the other, barrelling through and snapping trees in his path as he left the smoldering ruins of one cluster of metal men after the other. It did little to abate the fury of the situation he was in. He continued his metal-carnage, following the path the metal army was taking, until he came upon a city. It bore none of the rigidity of a world of the Imperium. There was an odd beauty and grace he hadn't felt for a place of dwelling since before his steps into Chaos. If not for the humans peeking fearfully through windows at the wake of destruction he left, he would have thought it belonged to another race.

His footsteps thundered through the city, drawing the attention of more of the metal men. The came in hordes, their lasers doing nothing but drawing his irritation at the little scorch marks they left on his Terminator Armor. He swung his arm, smashing dozens of them and flaying them across buildings. He came across his first group of humans out of their shelters mere minutes into the city, an odd group of gowned woman and what looked to be several unarmored guards, escorted at gunpoint by the metal men. They were ungifted by Chaos, normal humans, but not members of the Imperium, that was for certain. They were... neutral to him for the moment.

No, not correct.

They were useful. They would give him information on where he was. He strode towards the group, his thunderous approach leaving small tremors in the ground that caused a few of them to trip, and drew the attention of the metal men.

"MOVE YOU FOOLS!" roared Abaddon as he charged.

If they got between him and the metal men, it was at their own peril.

Fortunately, for them, they scrambled out of the way as he smashed into the metal men guarding them. It took him less than ten seconds to tear them apart. He studied the metal corpses, nudging one with a boot. He wasn't particularly qualified, he didn't make metal men, but... their make seemed rather pitiful, cheap, mass produced. He could most likely take on an entire planet of them and not be phased in the slightest.

He turned his gaze towards the group of humans, watching them shrink back a little under the intensity of his gaze, save for one of the orange robed woman. She met the gaze, curious, before noticing the others had drawn back and did likewise. Abaddon wasn't sure what it meant, but made a note of which one the woman was. Few were the ones that could meet his gaze head on like that, especially at so young an age.

The one in the black gown with face paint mustered up her nerve and took a few steps forward. "I am Queen Amidala of the Naboo, I thank you for your timely assistance."

A human queen? Well, that was unusual, at least in the Imperium... wait...

"That, was all that was sent to guard a captured leader?" spat Abaddon, incredulous.

Not that it was normal for him to take dignitaries alive, but if he did, he had FAR more on guard to keep them in place.

"We are a peaceful people, sir," said the Queen, before one of the guards spoke up, "It's probably why they targeted us."

Peaceful? Bah, he had no time for fools. Peace was an illusion, war was truth, adapt or stagnate, and stagnation led to death. He was half tempted to simply kill them all and move on, but stayed his hand for now. He needed more information.

Something of his distaste must of shown through, because the Queen narrowed her eyes and said rigidly, "It takes great character and inner strength to take the path of peace."

"Yes, I'm sure," Abaddon drawled, "And then, for all that inner strength, a horde of poorly built metal men overrun you with laughable ease when an entire army of them would fall to a single space marine in Terminator Armor. I am not particularly moved nor impressed, your Majesty."

He strode forward in two powerful long steps, towering over the queen, and pointed the Talon of Horus inches from her startled and fearful face. "Allow me to enlighten you. If you seek peace, foolish notion as it is, you must have the power to seize and maintain that peace. Without power and strength, no one will take you seriously, no one will respect your sovereignty. They will walk over you as I would a weak foe not worth my time, a corpse under my booth left behind as nothing."

He swung his blade back towards the city. "My power, has left every metal man I have come across in pieces."

He glanced back towards her. "Your power has left you and your people in chains."

The Queen said nothing, a nervous gulp running down her throat.

"Well," said one of the men of the group, a garbed man, "You certainly aren't the Chancellor's ambassador, and definitely not a Jedi with that philosophy."

Abaddon blinked once. "What is a Jedi?"

And then the entire group was staring at him as if he had lost his head, the same man spoke up, flabbergasted, "The Jedi Order, it's knights the guardians of peace and justice in the Republic."

Abaddon merely stared at him. Though he did catalogue two pieces of information. That this planet belonged to a Republic, and that these Jedi might be warriors if the term knight was used. Apparently held in some form of renown. Perhaps they would give him sport if he crossed one.

At his lack of response, the man continued awkwardly, "They wield lightsabers? They get their mystical powers from the Force?"

Abaddon frowned thoughtfully. Mystical powers? Perhaps they were psykers?

At that thought he paused, his head swerving to a overhead walkway a little ways ahead, feeling two odd sensations hiding on them, and raised his voice, "If you were expecting these 'Jedi', perhaps those who wait up ahead then."

The Queens group swerved to follow his gaze, watching as two brown-robed men, and some bumbling Xeno with floppy ears, descended from the walkway. Abaddon's gaze instantly fell upon the elder of the two, feeling something akin to a curious probe brush against his mind. He narrowed his eyes in warning, and the sensation backed off. Psyker indeed, though, the energy they gave off was strange, nothing like he had felt before. He would be mindful and cautious while dealing with these unknown warriors, for now.

"We should leave the streets your highness," said the elder Jedi, giving Abaddon a wary glance.

"Yes, run and hide," said Abaddon with disdain, "Pathetic peace-loving cretins."

The queen worked up the nerve to glare at him, but not enough to say anything.

"We dislike violence, and prefer to negotiate when at all possible," said one of the orange garbed woman, the same one that had met his gaze earlier, "But we will fight if we have to."

"Your Majesty," the Jedi tried again, interrupting, "We must leave and get you to Coruscant."

"My place is here with my people," countered the Queen.

"They will kill you if you stay," answered the Jedi seriously.

The robed man from earlier spat out, "They wouldn't dare!"

One of the guards nodded. "They need her to sign the treaty to make this invasion of theirs legal. They can't afford to kill her..."

Abaddon stared at the spectacle, just a tad bit confused. "And why exactly would a conquering army care about the legality of their actions? What enemy is it that brings their metal army to your world?"

"They belong to the Trade Federation," said the same guard, "An interstellar shipping and trade conglomerate."

Abaddon's eyebrows furrowed. "Perhaps I am unused to this... area of space... but why exactly would a corporation have it's own standing army? Would such entities not normally hire others to guard for them? Or be guarded by the government they belong to? Why would they invade this planet specifically?"

"To our knowledge, it was out of protest of a taxation that was levied on them," stated the Queen, "We don't know we were the ones targeted."

Abaddon scoffed. "Where I come from, if a 'trading federation' attempted such a thing, they would have been burnt to the ground and left to ruin. Regardless of that..."

He tilted his head. "This move is foolish. You say you belong to a 'Republic'? I assume the Trade Federation does as well?"

"Yes," answered the Queen.

"Then this invasion makes no sense," said Abaddon, waving the Talon of Horus through the air.

"I agree," said the elder Jedi, turning to the Queen, "There is something else behind all of this, their is no logic behind the Federation's move here. My feelings tell me they will destroy you."

Wise instincts then, because Abaddon felt the same. His gifts of Chaos, while slowly waning, were still sharp. There was a dark shadow at work here, and it was not the power of Chaos. It was something... else... perhaps a rival power or entity not born of Chaos? Either way, if it challenged him, it would be destroyed.

"They will find only more punishment and perhaps destruction of their entire federation for this move," said Abaddon slowly, before an idea began to form in his mind, "That is IF your Republic has the nerve or steel to try to remove them from this planet."

The Queen sharply turned her head. "You don't believe the Republic will aid us?"

"What would this brute know?" said the elderly robed man, "He's not even from the Republic, no doubt a warlord from the Unknown Regions or Wild Space."

Abaddon narrowed his eyes in warning. "If I am a brutish warlord, then it would be in your best interest to not provoke me from liberating your head from your shoulders."

The man paled, stepped back, and said no more.

Abaddon turned to look back at the Queen. "Your planet has no army, no power to drive off this invasion. And my feelings, as your Jedi would say, tell me your Republic will not aid you."

He grinned savagely, "Pledge your planet to me, and I will end this invasion with my own hands."

He had no Chaos Legions at his back to build an army, no powerbase to strike out or expand from. He needed to start somewhere, and turning this pitiful peaceful planet into a world of his liking would have to do as a start.

The Queen bristled. "We will NOT pledge ourselves to a Warlord."

Not unexpected, he scoffed, waved a hand, and pointed up to space. "Then go, seek aid from your precious Republic, and see what happens. By the time you get back with nothing to show for your time save more deaths of your people, I may have defeated the entire federation army on my own. Perhaps your people will pledge themselves to me even without your agreement."

That SAME orange garbed woman stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "And if they don't? Will you harm civilians?"

Abaddon weighed his options quickly and carefully. His default answer would have been yes. He would conquer and bend any and all to his will. Yet... he was at the disadvantage here. Not now of course, but his power WAS going to wane in time, until he was as he had been before he entered into the service of Corruption. He needed to not alienate the galaxy at large, not yet, not until he had a solid powerbase to take on any challengers.

"No," answered Abaddon, "I see no point in wasting my time and blade on the unworthy."

After all, there was no point to it anymore. The innocent weren't needed as sacrifices to the Chaos Gods since they weren't (somehow) here. It honestly left him baffled on what to do with them. Abaddon didn't consider himself wasteful, if their death's served no purpose, then why bother? He hungered for challenge, not just wanton slaughter. If there was no sport in it, it grew boring. Perhaps they could even offer something to him for sparing their lives, or at least continue to breed warriors or tradesmen that he would eventually need.

Abaddon turned his head briefly, eyes seeking out that orange garbed woman in the cluster of them. There was something different about her than the others. Especially considering she had more nerve and steel than the Queen herself...

Oh.

The Queen.

Ha, that was actually rather clever. Disguise the actual queen as a servant, and the servant as the Queen. That may have worked on some of his underlings (but only served to get the real Queen soiled and then killed), but not him. Not that the Queen was helping to hide herself with acting out like that. Still, he turned away after a moment's lingering, turning from the group and stalking off.

"When you return empty handed, seek me out if my offer still interests you," he called back.

He had his fill of words, it was time for blood.

Or well...

Metal scrap he supposed...

Author's Notes:

Random idea I had. Abaddon is going to absolutely wreck the Star Wars Universe when he gets rolling. Have to slowly strip him of the Gifts of Chaos or he would just rofl-pwn everyone, Sidious included. Yoda included. Skywalker included (maybe not a full-power fully trained Skywalker, but Anakin would never reach that point if Abaddon deemed him a threat).

Also, Abaddon/Padme.

He's going to turn her into a dangerous Warrior Queen.

Why isn't Abaddon a drop-down select-able character in create a story? For shame . For Shame...