Why did he volunteer for this job? Couldnīt really remember, but it probably didnīt matter. He was dead anyway. And he really meant it. He was dead. Had to be. Got shot in the heart. Well at least he thought the bullet must have hit the heart. His Keeper of the Art armor made it hard to see exactly, because of some stupid reason they had to have all these robes and capes over the armor. When he had been a Brotherhood trooper they used to laugh at the stupid outfit the Keepers had, and then he had been detected as a possible user of the Art. The mystics took him among their ranks and he started to learn. Quickly. When he joined the brotherhood it was out of gratfulness. They had saved his life, well Inquisitor Paul Winter had saved his life, the others had risked it. But Paul wanted him to join, and so he did as a trooper. And then he became a Mystic. And then a Keeper. And then volunteered to go with a group of Imperial Wolfbanes as a Brotherhood reinforcement. And got killed. Well, at least shot. Mortally. Well, It did hurt like the flames of a symetrical dark spell so it must be moratl. Or maybe just critical. He tried to remove the robes from his chest-armor. Maybe the built in CMU that was standard in all Keeper of the Art-armors had saved him. He removed the last bit of cloth. There it was. The bullet that is. It hadnīt gone through his armor, just knocked him over and probably given him a hell of a bruise. Great. He was alive again. Alive in the middle of no-where in a forest somewhere on Venus. Great.

About ten feet away a Necromutant came trough the bushes and got sight of him. "In sanctus spiriti mortis", he quickly whispered while creating the requred signs and movements with his hands. A little ball of glowing, concentrated gas appered from nowhere between his hands. The mutants eyes opened with fear. The little creature obviously reckognized the spell. That knowledge didnīt exactly save the necromutant when he magically threw the ball towards him. The explosion could be seen up to a mile away.

He had just removed the last bits of grass, dirt and necomutant guts from his armor (good thing it was acid-proof) when a Imperial pathfinder came through the bushes.

"Hi", he said.

"You fool. You have given away our position with that magic of yours!", the pathfinder whispered.

"The fact that they attacked us might not be a sign that the already know where we are?"

"We are trying to reposition our wolfbane teams. The fact that you are calling every enemy this way does not help!"

"Calm down. Iīm a Keeper. Iīll keep them at bay."

"..."

"Right. Come on, wolfie, lets go."

"Keith", the pathfinder answered. "My name is Keith."

"Ok, Keith. Letīs reposition our forces."

The Legionaries came over the hill only twelve minutes later. Hundreds of them. Weīre dead he thought, looking at the mass of the enemy. We are only about fourty wolfbanes and they are over three hundred. There is no chance we can win. "Now watch this", Keith whispered. "Look, friend, there is no dishonor in running aw..", he started to answer. He was cut short when Keith relesed the trigger on his Howler and the grenade hit the Necromutant leader of the largest Legionarie-squad. The Necromutant was knocked unconscious and almost thirty legionaries stopped moving. A smoke-screen started to spread from a spot near the necromutants head. Several other grenades came flying from bushes and hiding places all around and several of them hit the enemies the same way soft pillows dosenīt. Smoke was everywhere and raging warriors with swords and Agressors followed after. The confusion was complete. He followed right behind Keith, since Keith was the only one of the Wolfies that he even knew the name of. The leader was called Sean something. Probably some low rank loser, reciving a mission like this. Damned. Stepped in.. in... something.

"Curse", he mumbled.

"Shh", Keith whispered back.

Suddenly a huge centurion came through the smoke knocked him over and raised his skalak. "Die, human", it said confidently.

"Magister", he whispered.

"What?", the centurion said.

" I said Magister", he pulled up both his punisher guns and fired both simultaneously into the face of the centurion. "My name is The Magister, not human."

"That was stupid", keith said from his position in the bushes five feet away. "He could have killed you instead of hesitated."

"Thats why I counted on your Agressor to use the auto-fire function if I hadnīt reached my guns in time", the Magister said confidently.

"I happen to be out of ammo", Keith said with a laugh.

"... (gulp)... Ehh.. Take one of my Punishers. I always carry two, but itīs better that we carry one each." The Magister was glad that his Keeper of the Art-armor kept Keith from seeing the nervousness in his face.

"Tanks", Keith said when he recived the heavy gun.

"Anytime."

They were almost in the middle of the forest battle now. The Magister could see the Nepharite Warlord that was the leader of this evil army. He remembered what the brotherhood had taught him about theese warlords. They had once been human-heretics that had failed in their attempt to leave their humanity behind forever and been stuck between. That gave him a idea. It should still have a partly human mind. "Keith, hurt the Warlord. Distract him!"

"What!"

"Now!", he screamed.

Keith started running towards the Warlord, changing the setting on the Punisher gun to full-auto. The punisher-handgun and the Agressor was the only two handguns in the human armies that could be fired with full auto-function, and that was exactly what Keith intended to do. He ran. He stormed in among the enemies. He aimed. And then he fired. The entire 13 round clip left the barrel and hit the warlord with greater force than most assault-rifles can achive. He was most certainly distracted. From whatever he was doing before. Instead he became focused on Keith. Keith who was now out of ammo. Twice.

The Magister was going for the Domination-spell. It still had a partly human mind. And itīs mind controlled the undead. Hundreds of them. By controlling the Warlord he could affect the entire army. He reached out, touched the mind of the bastard-Nepharite. Reach into itīs thoughts. Took control. Made it turn the undead first against the necromutants and centurions and then against each other.

When it was over Keith was still standing still. On the exact point where the Nepharite had had itīs aim between his eyes. Where it had smiled at his fear and just was about to fire itīs Voriche when it instead had ordered the undead to fire upon their own leaders. The warlord himself included.

The Magister started walking towards keith. A wolfbane came towards him.

"Congratulation. You saved the day. My name is Sean Galla...", the wolfbane started saying.

"Yeah yeah. Get out of my way, wolfie. My friend over there might be hurt or something. Ok?"

"What! Do you know who I am?", Sean said with anger in his voice.

"Some loser who got a lousy mission and was about to lose if Keith here hadnīt heroicly stormed a Warlord by himself so please, get lost. Ok?"

"You.. I... I should..."

"Yeah wolfie, you should."

The Magister walked up the hill to where Keith stood, dead enemies around him and a dead Warlord only 20 feet away. It was a big Warlord. "You ok, Keith?"

"Yes."

"You seems surprised."

"I just thought that the heaviest handgun ever made by man should do more than just piss him off."

"I know that feeling. Thats why I always carry two. But you keep that one. Itīs a gift."

"Thanks, but I donīt even know your name."

"Neither do I, but the others call me the Magister."

"You donīt know your own name?"

"Long history. Hard to make it short."

"I have time. Why is Sean Gallagher so upset. He looks like he could kill someone."

"I donīt know. Must be something someone said. Touchy guy."

They started to walk toward the regrouping-area, talking about history, brotherhood and fights to come.