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Well, since I can't resist the lure of chaos, I'm currently thinking of doing a lost and the damned army, and I've even managed to write some fluff. I'm sorry it's so long, but if you could give me some comments or criticism I'd appreciate it. Thanks.
To: Inquisitor Traven
From: Inquisitor Locke
Subject: Impending Threat
Recieved: 978. M41
Message Format: Telepathic
Astropathic Duct: Shinji Jan
Thought For the Day: Vigilance is the shield of humanity.
It has been long since we have spoken, but now is a desperate time and I am forced to ask for your aid. I am contacting you because I have encountered a threat beyond my experience and I now know I will not survive. I therefore consign the knowledge I have gathered to you, in the hope that where I have failed, you may succeed. I pray so, for countless millions of lives may be at stake.
A year ago I was called to the agri-world of Bellephron II by reports of a zombie plague. As a member of the Ordo Sepulcturum, I felt honour bound to respond to such a call for aid, particularly since other Imperial forces were proving slow to muster. The destruction I encountered upon landing, however, was uncharacteristic of Plague Zombies. Buildings had been torn down or burned, and many of the fields themselves were still in flames. We also found no bodies, making it impossible for me to determine the fate of the inhabitants. Though confused by my findings, I resolved immediately to locate the source of the destruction. Little did I know that the next morning, my ambition would be fulfilled.
I awoke to find the camp in disarray and under attack by a hostile force. As I regrouped with a small cadre of my personal stormtroopers, I suddenly caught sight of one of the attackers. Its body closely resembled a normal human frame, but parts appeared warped and misshapen. In places, the flesh seemed to have liquidised or melted, and protruding from it were metal shapes, mechanical components and other, less identifiable parts. Some were recognisable as the kind of agricultural machinery used on worlds such as this, others were less identifiable. The creature hurled itself towards us, slashing madly with metal blades embedded in its arms. Though I could not make out the words, I could swear it was asking me to kill it. Fortunately, the stormtroopers reacted faster than I, and the thing went down under a hail of fire from their hellguns. Before we had time to conceive a strategy, however, many more had appeared, and we found ourselves retreating towards our ships. Several stormtroopers were slain, but by the Grace of the Emperor my group made it to the Valkyrie, and were able to get airborne before the vast tide of these monsters overwhelmed us. Many of my companions were not so lucky.
As we ascended, I sensed a great warp presence nearby, standing out even from the collective pain and misery of the horde which seemed to overwhelm my warp senses. Reaching for an Auspex, I was able to make out several hulking figures observing us from a nearby ridge. Their size and archaic terminator armour immediately identified them to me as Adeptus Astrates. One, the source of the warp disturbance and clearly the leader, gestured towards us, and the others, who appeared mutated and hulking, their distorted flesh fused to their armour, opened fire with a variety of weapons embedded into their bodies. Fortunately, the pilot was able to evade most of the projectiles, and we escaped intact.
It would later occur to me of the similarity between those blasphemous leviathans of metal and flesh and the legion of smaller creatures we encountered on the surface. At this point, I realised the fate of Bellephron’s population. Some obscene force or technology had fused them with the machines they had depended upon, driving them mad with pain and horror, and the space marine I observed was somehow controlling the resulting horde. Psychic domination seems possible, for I have heard of similar things occuring with certain zombie plagues, but I have no basis for this assumption.
After scouring the records, and through many psychic divinations which, I fear, have cost me much of my own sanity, I believe I have identified this monster. He is Lord Arges, a former librarian of the cursed Iron Warriors legion, whose vast knowledge is believed to have been instrumental in the creation of a warp bourne contagion called the ‘obliterator virus.’ This leads me to my conclusion, that Arges is using this virus to build his own terrible army from the bodies of honest, Emperor fearing men and women
Faced with this, I know he must be stopped before his ‘Freak Legion’ crushes the entire sector, but it is too late for me. My careless probing of the warp has drawn his eye to me, and I know my time is almost up. My one comfort is that I can choose to meet my death now, while I am still a servant of the Emperor, and not an abomination.
Farewell, my friend
Disturbing news indeed, apparently, all contact was lost with the Inquisitorial fortress on Ekaterina several days after Johann transmitted this message from there. I have no doubt the sorcerer was responsible. A true Iron Warrior, he is slowly and methodically destroying those who become aware of his plans. I am doubtless next.
Fortunately, Traven’s message has given me a vital fighting chance. I now know my enemy, and can take action to counter his efforts.
The chapter master of the Imperial Fists has been informed of this threat. Our relationship has not been smooth in the past, but I trust he will be prepared to cooperate when it comes to the destruction of one of his chapter’s most ancient foes.
Interrogator Mekhet has also made good progress in infiltrating the cult known as the ‘Brotherhood of the Iron Soul.’ It is apparently larger and more organized than we could ever have predicted, with branches operating on several factory worlds close to the Bellephron system. A link to the Freak Legion cannot be proved, but the belief in a state of personal union with the machine is too coincidental to ignore. The Arbites have been alerted on the worlds in question, and have indicated their willingness to act if the situation degenerates any further.
An acquaintance in the Ordo Sicarius has informed me that three assassins have been dispatched to hunt down Arges. They may provide a distraction, or slow down his efforts. Meanwhile, I must prepare my own forces, and move to oppose this fiend before his plans can come to fruition.
Emperor give me strength, for I cannot fail.
Last edited by The_Giant_Mantis; April 17th, 2006 at 04:23.
I like it. Will there be a second part? Will the story spawn any conversion ideas?
I'll go out on a wild goose chase here if you don't mind.
Not sure about a second part. Though it would be cool to explain Arges more since he's the one whose actually going to get modelled (provided I go ahead with this.) Basically, though, he's your typical mad scientist who just happens to have psychic powers, plus a good dose of iron warrior bitterness.Originally Posted by zenarion
As for conversions, the plan is to use humanoid models like Marauders as the basis for the human obliterators and attach things like guitar wire, guns and techno bits to them, using green stuff to make it look like it's been absorbed into their bodies. The army will also include real obliterators, spawn (experiments gone wrong), big mutants (perhaps an advanced stage of the virus), chaos hounds (dogs or other animals with the virus) and traitors ('Iron Soul' cultists who believe they're going to achieve perfect union with the machine god.)
Last edited by The_Giant_Mantis; April 17th, 2006 at 00:25.
This isn't part 2, I'm afraid. It's just a short story I wrote for fun. If you like it, or don't like it, or anything, I'm eager for feedback.
Father Malachi, Leader of the Brotherhood of the Iron Soul on the factory world of Verdigris, felt his heart pounding in his chest. Even the faintly acidic rain, tainted by pollution from the distant forges and ammunition factories, could not dampen the excitement of the brothers and sisters on this, the day they had been building towards for what seemed like an eternity. The bitter fighting, the lightning raids on the armouries and facilities of their oppressors, the many brave brothers and sisters who had sacrificed themselves so that others might escape their wretched, fleshy bodies, and reach the purity of the Machine God. Today it would all be over.
For now the Omnisiah himself had answered their prayers. The entire Brotherhood had gathered here, drawn by dreams and omens, to where the burning metal comet carrying his divine body had fallen to the blighted wasteland. As Malachi watched, entranced, runes on the surface of the huge metal shell began to glow brighter, and, with a hiss, hatches began to open, releasing a dull red light from inside.
The figure which emerged from within was greater than he ever could have expected. Huge and imposing, clad in a vast suit of grey metal, a blade as large as a man resting easily in his hand, the almighty machine god exited his divine chariot. He towered over his followers like insects. Behind him, flanking him on either side, were two more beings, each almost as glorious as their master. They too wore armour, which seemed to be interwoven with the fabric of their very bodies. Malachi was overcome by this vision of perfection, for surely, these beings had achieved the purity which he himself craved ever since he had been rounded up and forced, like the others the unbelievers deemed ‘mutants,’ to labour in their factories.
The machine god spoke, its helmeted head focused exclusively on the cult leader. His voice was perfectly cold, terrifying yet commanding, and devoid of mercy, pity or weakness.
“Come forward, my servant. I wish to speak with you.”
Malachi felt hands pressing at him from behind, urging him forward. Almost quivering in excitement, he rushed forward to prostrate himself on the acid coated rocks, nearly burning through his regulation chem suit in the process. He could do nothing but blurt out the words.
“Oh mighty Omnisiah! I am here, ready to serve at your side. For the Brotherhood!”
With what seemed, to Malachi’s enraptured eyes, to be a gesture of great benevolence, the Father of all Machines gestured to him.
“Arise Malachi, you have served well, and guided your flock through the veil of lies set in place by the enemy and the corpse they love so dearly. I sense from your thoughts, as well, that you have succeeded in disabling the orbital defences. Within hours, more of my followers shall arrive, and we shall punish those who have opposed us. But first, Malachi, I have a reward for such a faithful and devout follower as yourself.”
Malachi felt tears well into his eyes, as he realised what must surely come next,
“My lord, am I to be granted purification? Am I to become one with your glorious machine?”
With one easy motion, the machine god lifted his sword and thrust it into the blighted ground. Suddenly, his hand was wrapped around Malachi’s throat, and the cultist found himself lifted into the air as easily as a normal man might lift a child. With a sound of scraping metal, a long needle emerged from the gauntlet on the Omnisiah’s other hand, it smelled strangely of grease, a faint hint of rotting flesh and.. something far worse as well. The God’s voice was a sibilant, triumphant hiss.
“Indeed, Malachi. Prepare for salvation.”
The Cultist’s last thought was that the Machine God didn’t seem so benevolent now.
Last edited by The_Giant_Mantis; April 19th, 2006 at 01:26.