Adeptus Drunkus – Chapter One

This is the first chapter of my upcoming novel, Adeptus Drunkus.

As you might recall, I mentioned in my State of the Website Address for 2025 that I was working on a novel. This novel, titled Adeptus Drunkus, is a crossover into the Warhammer 40K franchise, and features AJnet staff writer Frosty Mugg suddenly appearing in the Warhammer 40K universe during the Battle of Isstvan III.

The book is set to release on Amazon on May 26. However, because I’m feeling rather generous, I’ve decided to release the first chapter one month early right here on AJnet Mag. The first hit is free, but you’ll have to pay for the rest.

Enjoy!

 

Chapter One

 

Emergency beer/A simple operation/Unintelligible yelling/The Warmaster fallen

 

“Ugh…”

Frosty Mugg rolled over with a groan.

As he felt the cold, hard ground beneath him, he began to recount the series of events that had landed him here.

Wait a second, just where the hell was “here” anyway?

Frosty pulled himself up from the ground, and surveyed his surroundings. The sky was a hazy orange, and urban decay sprawled across the landscape. Perhaps this was Atlantic City.

But Frosty couldn’t make out any casinos. Which sucked, because the casino was a good source of cheap beer.

Beer…

The pangs of thirst began to overtake Frosty. He looked around, but didn’t see any beer stores. No beer? What fresh hell was this, and why had fate chosen to place Frosty in it?

“Joke’s on them,” Frosty said aloud to nobody in particular, “I’m always prepared for emergencies like this!”

Frosty reached into his jacket and pulled out a can of Yuengling Lager, what he called his “emergency beer”.

“The good stuff,” Frosty exclaimed aloud, again to nobody in particular.

As Frosty took a sip of his beer, a loud explosion shook the ground. Beer spilled down the front of Frosty’s hoodie.

“What the fuck!”

Scouring the area for the source of the explosion, Frosty noticed smoke billowing up in the distance. He finished what was left of his emergency beer, then threw his can on the ground and began walking towards the smoke.

“Someone owes me a beer!”

 

Lyciel Asbir pulled himself from the rubble. Checking himself for injuries, the captain of the Ravens Annihilus was relieved to discover that his injuries were superficial at best. Already, his Astartes healing factor had begun its work. Asbir felt his broken bones begin to mend, and the puncture wound in his chest had begun to close.

Asbir dusted himself off and signalled his teammates on the Vox.

“Epatharius, Sydian, Eshmerus, come in.”

Static.

Asbir looked around. The skyline of Isstvan III was peppered with descending drop pods. For some reason, the Warmaster had decided to forgo the usual Stormbirds in favor of the drop pods, but nonetheless Asbir was compelled to obey. Warmaster Horus was personally chosen by the Emperor himself, and it was far from Asbir’s place to question his decision.

But then, there were those rumors. Rumors that the Warmaster hadn’t been quite right after his near-death experience on the moon of Davin. Whispers of warp corruption, quiet accusations of heresy.

No, this was the Warmaster. Surely such a primarch as great as Horus could not fall to Chaos. Horus commit heresy? Absurd. The mere thought in and of itself could constitute heresy.

A familiar voice came over the Vox, and Asbir welcomed the distraction from such dark thoughts.

“Captain Asbir, come in.”

It was the voice of Lyren Sydian, Asbir’s trusted lieutenant.

“Sydian, where are you?”

“Not sure, Captain,” replied Sydian. “My drop pod hit a civilian building. Whole damned thing came down on me.”

“Fire a signal flare and hold your position, Sydian. I’ll come to you.”

Asbir scanned the skies, and in the distance spotted a flare about five miles to the west. He hurried in the direction of the flare.

 

As he made his way towards the smoke, a bright light caught Frosty’s eye. Fireworks? Maybe they’d even let Frosty light a few off. Fireworks were fun. Beer made them even funner. If these people were setting off fireworks, then surely they’d have beer too. It only made sense.

Frosty made a beeline for the light, the promise of beer pumping him full of adrenaline and pushing him onward. Another explosion sounded off in the distance.

“There’d better be beer left when I get there,” Frosty said, still to nobody in particular. “Those jerks owe me!”

Somewhere in the distance, Frosty thought he heard the sound of gunfire. Being from Philadelphia, he shrugged it off and continued his trek towards the bright light and pillar of smoke.

“Not my circus, not my monkey, not my business.”

 

Within minutes Asbir arrived at Sydian’s location.

“Any word on the others?”

“Nothing,” replied Sydian. “I can’t raise anyone else across the Vox. This drop is a clusterfuck.”

Asbir agreed, but said nothing. What was meant to be a simple operation to crush resistance was quickly turning into chaos.

Chaos…

Were the rumors about Horus true? Asbir hoped not.

“There you are, brothers.”

Asbir and Sydian turned as the throaty voice of Rogoc Epatharius called out from the shadows. A longtime friend and battle brother of Asbir’s, Epatharius had fought alongside his fellow Ravens in countless wars. While he valued all of his men, Asbir was particularly relieved to see Epatharius. The two had shared many a glory in battle, and the thought of losing such a strong and capable warrior to a poorly-mapped drop filled Asbir with anger.

“You live, Epatharius.”

Epatharius let out a hearty laugh.

“You expected less of me, Asbir?”

“Never, brother.”

The three Astartes looked to the distance, their objective visible. Capture the control tower, subdue any resistance, hold the position. Simple enough.

But still, there was that nagging doubt in the back of Asbir’s mind. Something wasn’t quite right.

It was then that a voice called out to the group.

 

Finally, Frosty arrived at the source of the smoke. As he approached, he noticed three large men in blue armor standing around. Frosty didn’t notice any beer, but it never hurt to ask. Life was full of surprises, after all.

Frosty approached the group, waving.

“Hey guys, I’m parched. Spare a Mugg a beer?”

The men turned to face Frosty, and began yelling unintelligibly. Obviously these guys had already drank all the beer. Which meant Frosty wouldn’t be getting any. Which meant Frosty would be getting sober. Which meant the Sober Police would show up and give him shit. From bad to worse.

“Come on guys, just one beer-”

One of the armored men pulled a gun and pointed it directly at Frosty’s head, continuing to yell unintelligibly. These guys were huge, towering over Frosty at around 8 feet tall. They were large, angry, and armed. The last people that Frosty wanted to piss off.

“Jesus Christ!”, exclaimed Frosty, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m sorry, I’ll go find my own beer!”

 

As the strange person spoke frantically in an unknown language, Epatharius drew his bolter and pointed it squarely at the person’s head.

“Identify yourself, now!”

The strange person raised his hands into the air and continued to speak frantically in the unknown language. Asbir stepped forward.

“Easy now, Epatharius. This man poses no threat to us. He’s probably a civilian.”

Epatharius holstered his bolter.

“Perhaps, Asbir. But what of the strange language he speaks? It’s not High or Low Gothic.”

“I do not know, brother. But we are Astartes. It is our duty to defend and preserve human life. To kill him would be a stain on the Legion and the Ravens Annihilus.”

Asbir leaned down, bringing himself face-to-face with the man. He caught a scent of alcohol, though he wasn’t certain what kind. Definitely not Amasec.

“What is your name? Where do you come from?”

The man stared back, then spoke again in the unknown language.

 

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Frosty said in response to the large man, who had bent down to eye level and was babbling unintelligibly.

This guy was obviously too drunk to understand. The only way to understand a drunk man was to be just as drunk yourself. Unfortunately, Frosty was out of beer.

Or was he?

Frosty felt his jacket. His hand moved to something firm and can-shaped. Luck be a lady, Frosty still had another emergency beer!

As Frosty reached inside his jacket, the large man went for his gun. Frosty raised his hands again.

“Easy big guy, I’m just grabbing a beer.”

Slowly, Frosty reached inside his jacket and pulled out another can of Yuengling Lager. The three large men watched as Frosty opened the can and chugged the beer.

 

The strange person drew a small cylinder from his jacket. Asbir watched as the man opened the cylinder and drank down its contents.

“What is that?” asked Sydian.

“Judging by the smell, some kind of alcohol.”

Epatharius sighed.

“So this man is drunk. I say we leave him to his own devices.”

“No,” replied Asbir, “He is very obviously human, though it’s clear he doesn’t belong here. We bring him to the Adeptus Mechanicus. They may be able to discern his origins.”

Epatharius let out a laugh.

“A bolter round would solve this much quicker.”

Asbir laughed.

“That’s your solution to everything, Epatharius.”

 

The large men laughed. Frosty wasn’t sure what was so funny, but he didn’t want to feel left out so he laughed too. The three men stopped laughing and looked at him. Frosty sighed.

“Just trying to fit in, guys.”

Frosty noticed that their armor looked familiar. Where had he seen it before?

Oh yeah, those little toys that Carl had on his desk at AJ’s office. What did he say they were called again? War-something-or-another? He couldn’t remember. Remembering things without beer was hard work. And the best reward for hard work was beer. Quite the conundrum.

Suddenly, one of the large men grabbed Frosty, slung him over his shoulder, and took off running alongside the two other large men.

Frosty wasn’t sure where they were going, but it was probably best to just go with it. He hoped there was beer there. Wherever there was.

 

The strange person began laughing along with them, and the Marines paused for a moment.

“Can he understand us?”

“Doubtful,” replied Asbir. “He’s probably laughing because we are.”

A sharp burst of static came over the Vox. Through the din, Asbir thought he could make out speech, albeit very broken.

“Warmaster… Chaos… Poison… Heresy…”

The voice became slightly clearer.

“The Warmaster… fallen to Chaos… launching poisonous gas to the surface… heresy against the Emperor…”

Asbir looked to his squad mates, who had both heard the transmission as well. He scooped up the strange person, and the group began running for shelter.

It was just as Asbir had feared. Warmaster Horus had fallen to Chaos.