TheOmnimercurial
Dragon Bard
- Location
- UK
I kind of want to see Pokémon become a new phenomenon and rising trend now....
Heck get some Genetors in on replicating some Mon too!
Heck get some Genetors in on replicating some Mon too!
The Galaxy is Flood, Not Food
- Thread starter Jackson Fox
- Start date
- Crossover Sci-Fi Horror
- Location
- colombia
Yeah,is basically 6ish months to take over a single hive
9 to take over a entire hiveworld passively
Is honestly brutal spread speed,tide needs more biomass to increase its processing
Killing underhive plant life could probably help
Then seal off entite chunks of the hive to hide its protogravemind form
The genestealer cults and mutants should offer enough biomass for another protogravemind
You know, I'm wondering, would the Logic Plague work on daemons?
Now hear me out, but in the books there's a scene where the forerunners use Mind/Essence transfer tech to move someone from an infected body to clean new one, and the infection followed along with it.
From this we can surmise that Flood infection is not just a physical thing, but a metaphysical one as well, I'm wondering if the Logic Plague works on a similar principle, where, once you've been convinced to join the Flood, been 'infected', you are metaphysically also infected.
With daemons an example would be convincing one to join and it's warp presence or essence or whatever changes to that of the Flood. If so it presents some interesting possibilities.
Now hear me out, but in the books there's a scene where the forerunners use Mind/Essence transfer tech to move someone from an infected body to clean new one, and the infection followed along with it.
From this we can surmise that Flood infection is not just a physical thing, but a metaphysical one as well, I'm wondering if the Logic Plague works on a similar principle, where, once you've been convinced to join the Flood, been 'infected', you are metaphysically also infected.
With daemons an example would be convincing one to join and it's warp presence or essence or whatever changes to that of the Flood. If so it presents some interesting possibilities.
- Location
- Anchorage, Alaska
whelp, the warps fucked when Tide gets his tendrils in, becuase one becomes many very quickly, and Nurgle is looking like the biggest contributer to the hell that the warp will become when Tide is Unleashed...Nurgle might even try to use it on isha, which will FUCK the eldar over so badly due to their connections to their gods...meaning also slannesh will get infected slowly but surely.
this will lead to two chaos gods becoming inert due to trying to fight off the flood infestation and such, which will cause khorne and tzeentch to investigate...and due to tzeentch's backstabbing and self defeating nature...well i can see it also falling to the flood with khorne rampaging to kill as much of it as possible. And while the blood god is a butcher, he also is a god of war and will understand how to cut out the infection as much as possible...a losing war to be sure. But a war none-the-less.
- Location
- colombia
The Flood has the characteristic of being both a metaphysical and physical assimilator,as well being ablento warp reality
Thanks to its interactions with the broodmind we know it can acces and interact with the psykic (as in using power harnessed from dimension based around metaphysics and thought like the warp)
It seems to me that its interaction with the Warp consists of its power and presence growing in the Warp proportionally to the hivemind strenght, similar to the hive mind of the Tyranids.
The challenge would be to learn to manipulate the Warp and the flood oversoul, requiring investigation into how the Warp can corrupt or alter reality and how does this link to the hivemind as well the flood forms.
Drawing comparisons with how the Flood manipulates reality with neural physics and contrasting it with how the Warp does it,then reverse engineering
going from the effects to understand the cause.
To achieve this, one would likely need to gather information from any sources that has some sort of ability to manipulate the warp or insight into it
The genestealer cults are likely the easiest source,there is specialized psyker forms of hybrids as well breeding programs to generate certain specific types of psiquic genestealers
This could be the first step,tide could learn how to make genestealers of its own that are psiquic able by copying step by step the genetic makeup of the tyranid hivemind,and just replace the hivemind oversouls with hers/his
Other targets that could give further insight
>inquisitors
>admech
>psykers
>votanns (their baseline is psiquic inert yet have specialized psykers that filter out abd channel their powers through tech,as well able to clone and produce such kin at will)
>eldars
>dark eldars
>chaos infected stuff ("ooohhh....so thats how the warp reverts gravity *takes notes*")
Tide can learn through trial and error,but stealing the chunks of knowledge and insight it can from other entities and events can help it fill the gaps faster
Thanks to its interactions with the broodmind we know it can acces and interact with the psykic (as in using power harnessed from dimension based around metaphysics and thought like the warp)
It seems to me that its interaction with the Warp consists of its power and presence growing in the Warp proportionally to the hivemind strenght, similar to the hive mind of the Tyranids.
The challenge would be to learn to manipulate the Warp and the flood oversoul, requiring investigation into how the Warp can corrupt or alter reality and how does this link to the hivemind as well the flood forms.
Drawing comparisons with how the Flood manipulates reality with neural physics and contrasting it with how the Warp does it,then reverse engineering
going from the effects to understand the cause.
To achieve this, one would likely need to gather information from any sources that has some sort of ability to manipulate the warp or insight into it
The genestealer cults are likely the easiest source,there is specialized psyker forms of hybrids as well breeding programs to generate certain specific types of psiquic genestealers
This could be the first step,tide could learn how to make genestealers of its own that are psiquic able by copying step by step the genetic makeup of the tyranid hivemind,and just replace the hivemind oversouls with hers/his
Other targets that could give further insight
>inquisitors
>admech
>psykers
>votanns (their baseline is psiquic inert yet have specialized psykers that filter out abd channel their powers through tech,as well able to clone and produce such kin at will)
>eldars
>dark eldars
>chaos infected stuff ("ooohhh....so thats how the warp reverts gravity *takes notes*")
Tide can learn through trial and error,but stealing the chunks of knowledge and insight it can from other entities and events can help it fill the gaps faster
That ending was some horror movie type of ending. You think you are talking with a friendly then bam! It's the killer.
lazyrobot87
Couch potatoing since 2005
1. Interesting. so what your saying if tide can imagine it he can eventually achieve it?
2. thank you for clarifying. I thought it might be a situation where the mind (tide) and brain (proto gravemind) were two different things.
3. fair enough ( though that slaneesh cultist might change things. ) but being in 40k is probably gonna change that alone.
4. Huh... at this point i would have thought that he might have been genius + level with the amount of people he consumed. like i mean since hes using the processing power of 94+ humans I knew he'd be smart. ( not as smart as he could be without eating a officer or two) but I thought he would be able to multi task to a scary degree. but honestly hes probably super smart and im underselling it.
5. I was accounting for the necrons when i said that. because i feel the logic plague is a lot more powerful. its not the gravemind just saying a few code words and suddenly you have bad ai. it is quite literally weaponization of known language. a memetic agent so powerful that given just a month can break down humanity's best ai out there and in a few years was able to convince the most powerful forerunner ai to switch sides and kill the forerunners. that is how powerful the logic plague is. but at the same time. Robot Egyptian skeletons that play pokemon with gods and uses their remnants to power their basic rifle. flood got nothing on gauss rifles.
anyway thats my two cents on the stuff im just reading it. As usual your work is gold Jackson hope you have a great night.
- Pronouns
- Zack
If I remember correctly, the conversation with the forerunner AI lasted much longer than a few years.5. I was accounting for the necrons when i said that. because i feel the logic plague is a lot more powerful. its not the gravemind just saying a few code words and suddenly you have bad ai. it is quite literally weaponization of known language. a memetic agent so powerful that given just a month can break down humanity's best ai out there and in a few years was able to convince the most powerful forerunner ai to switch sides and kill the forerunners. that is how powerful the logic plague is. but at the same time. Robot Egyptian skeletons that play pokemon with gods and uses their remnants to power their basic rifle. flood got nothing on gauss rifles.
anyway thats my two cents on the stuff im just reading it. As usual your work is gold Jackson hope you have a great night.
Strunkriidiisk
THE LEGEND
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's worth noting that the Logic Plague (or at least, in the case of Mendicant Bias) isn't actually a memetic effect, it just looks that way from the outside because the Forerunner ancilla had a specific psychological weakness that the Primordial/Flood was uniquely well-positioned to exploit.
There were later instances that acted more like traditional computer viruses or an actual mental/digital equivalent to Flood infection, but this might have been the result of conflicting writing, or a separate thing entirely. I like the idea that this later 'logic plague' may have actually been fabricated by Mendicant themselves after they defected.
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No, still in the Proto-Gravemind stage. I'm currently thinking the minimum body count for a Gravemind is around 10,000 humans, a keymind being around 10 billion. That's not an official number, its just what I've currently got in my head.
Well, at the moment, Tide has no idea how to or desire to access psychic powers. He's very much aware of the dangers of the Warp and isn't going to even try and see if he can use it before he's nommed enough psykers to make the Emperor's stomach growl.
I'm thinking it very much depends. It wouldn't be the same as the Logic Plague, obviously, but would it be possible? Maybe. First and foremost, I don't see it working on the Chaos Gods, full stop. At most he would be able to guide the attention of a Chaos God to elsewhere and only under a very specific set of circumstances with a whole lot of power and intelligence to guide him.
As for Greater Daemons, it would really depend. I don't see him convincing those Bloodthirsters whose vocabulary consists of "blood", "skulls", and "murder" to do much of anything through any kind of Logic Plague analogue. Most Greater Daemons would be too connected to their gods for it to really work I think, but we do see them occasionally acting against the wishes of their masters (Skarbrand for instance). However, even then, it would be likely impossible for him to get a greater daemon to join and serve him willingly against the wishes of their god. Even if he did manage it, that Chaos God would likely just destroy said greater daemon.
As for lesser daemons, I think he'd have an easier time convincing them of stuff, though there would still be similar problems to those with the Greater Daemons when it comes to serving Tide. It would also depend on what the daemon thinks is happening and which god they serve. If the daemon thinks serving Tide is serving their god's plans, they're much more likely to work for him. Khorne daemons are unlikely to really care one way or another, they just want blood and skulls. Slaanesh daemons might be willing to act outside the express wishes of the Dark Prince. Nurgle daemons love their grandfather too much to ever knowingly defy him. And Tzeentch daemons... well, even if Tide did somehow manage to convince one to join him, I don't think Tide would ever not be paranoid that it was some kind of trick.
The thing about daemons is that they're all basically just shards of their requisite gods and are connected to a very intimate degree. Now, I don't think the chaos gods are watching every daemon all the time forever, but they're more likely to take notice of the actions of a daemon, especially if they do something that displeases them. Even the most scheming of daemons, the Lords of Change, don't dare to turn against the Architect of Fate. There are exceptions to this general rule, but there is a reason they are exceptions. They're practically examples for daemons of what not to do.
I'm thinking of adding more scenes similar to this one as the story progresses, so we'd have some Tide POV stuff and then the POV of the very unfortunate few who encounter him.
1. Interesting. so what your saying if tide can imagine it he can eventually achieve it?
2. thank you for clarifying. I thought it might be a situation where the mind (tide) and brain (proto gravemind) were two different things.
3. fair enough ( though that slaneesh cultist might change things. ) but being in 40k is probably gonna change that alone.
4. Huh... at this point i would have thought that he might have been genius + level with the amount of people he consumed. like i mean since hes using the processing power of 94+ humans I knew he'd be smart. ( not as smart as he could be without eating a officer or two) but I thought he would be able to multi task to a scary degree. but honestly hes probably super smart and im underselling it.
5. I was accounting for the necrons when i said that. because i feel the logic plague is a lot more powerful. its not the gravemind just saying a few code words and suddenly you have bad ai. it is quite literally weaponization of known language. a memetic agent so powerful that given just a month can break down humanity's best ai out there and in a few years was able to convince the most powerful forerunner ai to switch sides and kill the forerunners. that is how powerful the logic plague is. but at the same time. Robot Egyptian skeletons that play pokemon with gods and uses their remnants to power their basic rifle. flood got nothing on gauss rifles.
anyway thats my two cents on the stuff im just reading it. As usual your work is gold Jackson hope you have a great night.
1. I mean... sort of? It's less a 'I imagine I have a gun that kills all the chaos gods' and more 'I am learning how to better utilize my ability to alter reality through a lot of trial and error'.
2. Yup. A lot of the time I intentionally don't fully answer questions if I think there might be spoilers for future stuff, but my definition of 'spoilers' is kind of... broad at times. Its why I didn't explain sooner that Tide was in control of the Flood and would be in control of any and all the graveminds he creates, since I didn't want people to know that. Its kinda silly looking back on my reasoning and doesn't really make sense.
3. : )
4. Oh, he's definitely beyond genius level I think. I think I showed a bit of the multitasking abilities this chapter. Something that's important to note, which I probably could have showed a bit better, is that even while he's thinking about all these things, he's coordinating all the combat forms he possesses, spreading throughout the Underhive with infector pods, checking on his Altered, maneuvering the corpses of those who Altered who have died to come down to where he is without arousing suspicion, and maintaining a constant watch for signs of Chaos, Genestealer, or any other kind of major threat to him. All of that, simultaneously. While there is a limit to how fast he is able to think, he is organic after all, his capacity has grown much larger.
5. It'll definitely be interesting. On a personal level, he'd be dangerous to the Necrons, but on an army level they're basically his worse nightmare.
Thank you, I'm really glad you're enjoy my stuff! Have a great night : )
43 years. Granted, I think this was an early form of the Logic Plague and the Primordial was likely taking it easy on Mendicant to slowly subvert him, rather than the hammer approach the Gravemind took with Cortana.
Necrons would be more of an exercise in diplomacy. For all of their arrogance within the Galaxy there is little difference between them and Halo Precursors power wise. Ideally Tide will need to cozy to up to one of the factions and use them as a shield. Trazyn would be easy to attract and he is one of the most reasonable and flexible Necrons if not for his kleptomania. If Tide could get over the hurdle of Trazyn trying to pocket the whole planet it would be one of the best arrangements.
- Location
- USA
The dreaming exchange of skills is very interesting. Mostly in that it's a sort of unconscious olive branch to the people of the hiveworld, to offer people new paths in life that they otherwise might not have had. To improve the lives of everyone with little visible cost. All those people who had nothing to do before, or were basically doing something useless, have the chance to be like that little girl and just...fix the place up. Gives them something to do, and makes the hive a better place. To say nothing of the sudden influx of janitorial skills, medical skills, cooking, farming, and whatever else people may learn just from taking a nap.
And all they gotta do is pass on some dead bodies to this weird mushroom patch once in a while
And all they gotta do is pass on some dead bodies to this weird mushroom patch once in a while
To be fair to the AIs, the Logic Plague would work on literally any sapient being, thats the point. Its just that AIs dont have a biological form that can be easily infected. However, if you contain the Flood physically but give it some way to comunicate you are still fucked which is important to remember. Reminds me of the Eclipse Phase exsurgent virus honestly.
The planet is covered by the Warp storm so only local eldar will notice anything. For now.
lazyrobot87
Couch potatoing since 2005
I think you mean forerunners. because while necrons in the war in heaven were powerful they werent "im going to throw this other galaxy around and use it like a baseball bat for kicks" powerful. it might be more accurate to compare the necrons and war in heaven eldar to the forerunners and the old ones as precursors when it comes to power levels.
Umbra99
Good Civilization
- Location
- The Moon
I doubt diplomacy will be that effective with the Necrons. They may be arrogant, but they aren't idiots. They'd probably recognize the dangers that Tide poses and want him gone as much as anyone else, whether they know about Tide's ability to infect them or not. I mean, Szarekh is already trying to get the Necrons to unite against the Tyranids, despite the fact the Tyranids should have little interest in Necrons. I'm sure he'd be able to recognize that Tide is basically the Tyranids but worse and more vulnerable right now, and try to wipe him out. Trazyn in particular is also a pretty bad choice because, even ignoring his likelihood to just British Museum Tide, Solemnace is on basically the other end of the Segmentum from the Ghoul Stars. By the time Tide has the resources to get his attention from that far away, he probably wouldn't need the help.
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Chapter 8 - Viral
Day 9, Continued
Inquisitor Catherine Ellen strode through the laboratory's entrance, her thick boots clomping heavily against the metal floor, the soft whir of her power armor barely audible over the clanking. While she normally would only wear her armor in expectation of combat, recent developments had revealed to her that such an expectation should be constant on Monstrum. While no attempts had been made yet, she knew well the court of the Planetary Governor, Selvik Monstrum, whose family the planet had been named after, would like nothing more than to see her suffer an unfortunate accident.
Many things had gone wrong for Catherine Ellen in the past few months. She'd come to Monstrum originally to raise an army to deal with a certain threat which required a large force of guardsman. In that, she had succeeded, but the fleet intended to transport them to their destination had never arrived before the Warp Storm had descended. The ship she herself had arrived on had departed shortly before that as well, leaving her stranded upon the planet's surface until the storm lifted.
And yet, that was only the start of the frustrations. While initially Selvik's court had been welcoming and gracious of her, showing her proper respect and fear, they had been slowly becoming more and more bold. Not in front of her, never in front of her, but they were not so skilled in subterfuge that she could not determine what was going on.
A revolt was in the brewing. Perhaps it was because of her presence and her demand for twenty regiments of guardsman taken from the local PDF or perhaps it was something that had been boiling under the surface for much longer. Purilla, the psyker Ellen kept on her retinue, had claimed that the stench of the Warp was rank upon this world, but Ellen had not failed to notice her subordinate's beliefs had only emerged after the Warp Storm had descended. While a Chaotic presence was not impossible, there was also the possibility that the 'stench' Purilla smelled was merely the Immaterial forces crashing around the system.
Even that suspicion alone would have normally been enough for Ellen to focus entirely on dismantling the revolt before it could even begin, preferably through a cleanse of the noble families and hive cities involved, but there was an even greater problem at hand. Said problem was the reason she had come to the laboratory of her personal tech-priest, Genetor Vidriov. Or, rather, the empty office space that the red robed man had taken over as his laboratory.
"Report, Vidriov."
"Inquisitor," The Tech-Priest said, rising from his work. Said work was the dissected remains of a creature that looked like a tall, human male. However, the internal organs that were on full display revealed it's more sinister nature. "The presence of the fourth generation of the Genestealer reproductive cycle indicates an advanced infiltration."
Genetor Vidriov was tall, nearing two meters in total. Despite his long-standing within the Mechanicus, he was only around fifty percent augmented by machine, instead preferring genetic enhancements, something not uncommon among Magos Biologis. While nowhere on the level of a being like an Astartes, the Genetor was still many times stronger than a regular human and his flesh-parts had been kept in prime shape for several centuries longer than Ellen had been alive, much less a full Inquisitor.
"I gathered that," Ellen replied, somewhat curtly. "What I want to know is why this world hasn't already fallen into revolt. There is little doubt they know of our own awareness of them, so if they are so far along, why wait?"
"The innerworkings of the minds of xenos are difficult to comprehend at the best of times," Vidriov said needlessly. "However, I theorize that their spread is not so all-encompassing as previously feared."
"Elaborate."
"Consider this specimen," Vidriov said, gesturing to the corpse with a mechadendrite. "It was discovered within hive city Enyo, attempting to subvert a hive gang. Such tactics are commonly conducted by drones in the early stages of infiltration, not more advanced specimens that should be used for missions of greater importance.
"It is possible that the Genestealer infiltration of Monstrum is advanced but localized. The string of protests and riots documented to have occurred across the southern hives led to the implementation of martial law in 981.M41 for several decade, ending only after our arrival."
The Planetary Governor had claimed that news of her presence had calmed the rioters, but she knew otherwise. The governor had been afraid she'd be displeased by the riots and tried to keep her from learning it by ending the declaration of martial law. It hadn't worked of course, though the riots had stopped after the news of the conscription of twenty regiments of Imperial Guardsman had spread.
"I theorize that the Genestealers were unable to spread effectively between hive cities. While the reproductive cycle is advanced enough that a full-scale revolt should occur now or very soon, they lack the actual numbers to succeed. Our awareness of them is not a significant enough threat for them to act openly."
"Why? As far as they know, we have twenty guard regiments and most of the planet's defense forces to call upon."
"Genestealers, abominable though they are, possess great intelligence," Vidriov said, again needlessly. "It is possible they are counting on the political instability of Monstrum to prevent any unified Imperial response."
"Mm," Ellen murmured, stroking her chin in thought. "The issue is, they're likely right. The southern nobles aren't openly opposed to me or the governor, but I can tell they're plotting something."
"A purge of malefactors may be conducive," Vidriov suggested and Ellen gave him a small smile.
"Were it so easy," She said, shaking her head. "Keep me updated."
"Of course," Vidriov toned. Just as she turned to leave, however, the Tech-Priest continued. "Inquisitor."
"Yes?"
"There is another matter which I suspect will be of interest to you."
Ellen turned back, arching an eyebrow at the Genetor. "And that would be?"
One of the thin mechadendrites of the Genetor flicked around to retrieve something from the table, bringing it up for Ellen to see. It was a small vial of some cloud-like, yellowish substance.
"What am I looking at?" Ellen asked, taking a closer look at the vial. The clouds seemed to move and swirl in the vial, despite there being no wind to move the particles contained within.
"A sample of anomalous airborne spores found within several of hive city Malum's lower levels." Vidriov stated. "This sample was taken from the highest concentration of the organisms discovered by survey teams I deployed approximately forty-five hours ago. It took up roughly three percent of the air's particles. Its origins are unknown."
"Some kind of virus weapon?" Ellen asked, suddenly very concerned, and Vidriov's mechadendrites whirred again as it returned the vial to a rack of several similar samples.
"Experimentation is ongoing," Vidriov stated, and Ellen's eyes narrowed at that.
"What kind of experimentation?" Ellen demanded and Vidriov held his hands up in a placating gesture that was quite human for a Priest of Mars.
"Isolated exposure to subjects under extreme quarantine procedures," Vidriov answered, and Ellen's ire calmed. If he was being careful, then it should be fine. "Observance of locals revealed no surface level effects of exposure."
"Surface level," Ellen repeated and Vidriov nodded.
"Initial experimentation yielded more noticeable results in isolated subjects, who could be observed more closely," the Genetor said. "Within twenty-four hours of inhaling a sample, the organism had begun to spread throughout the bloodstream, with notable areas of build-up along the nervous system and within the lungs."
"A mind virus." It was a statement, not a question, but Vidriov nodded anyways. Ellen had a grim look on her face. Best case scenario, the virus wasn't too harmful, but the young Inquisitor had found there were very rarely any 'best case' scenarios. At worst, it was some kind of mind control, either Chaotic or Xenos in origins.
"That is a possibility. However, an important discovery was that the health of exposed subjects improved dramatically," Vidriov continued. "All other diseases and toxins within the subjects were eradicated by the organism."
"What?" Ellen said, more out of surprise than anything else, but Vidriov was not done.
"I administered a sample of almost every type of biological weapon I currently have access to," Vidriov stated. "Each was similarly eradicated before it could harm the subject."
"Complete immunity?" Ellen was shocked. Such a thing was more than extraordinary, it should have been outright impossible. "How can that be?"
"I possess several theories," Vidriov said and Ellen noted a slight inflection in the tone of the priest's void modulator, something that only happened when he was truly excited. It also told her that of those 'several' theories, there was one he believed absolutely to be true.
"Do tell."
"While this could be of Genestealer origin, the biomass utilized within the spores are not of Tyranid make," Vidriov said, only somewhat allaying the worst of Ellen's fears. "I theorize that this organism is not of Xenos origin."
"You think humanity made this?" Ellen said, unsure of whether she should be offended.
"I believe this is the result of a form of Archaeotech," Vidriov announced, a near fanatical tint to his modulator. "Legends speak of an STC called the Panacea, a device capable of curing all biological illnesses."
"And you believe these… spores to be this Panacea?" Ellen questioned, skeptical.
"Perhaps or a similar form of that lost technology," Vidriov said. "If my theory is correct, this could be the greatest discovery in the history of the Mechanicus! The benefits for the Imperium would be limitless."
"Or disastrous if you are wrong," Ellen countered. "This was discovered in Malum, yes?"
"Correct."
"Then have the hive city placed under quarantine," Ellen commanded. It was a drastic action, but a mind plague spreading, especially in the southern cities, was too great of a risk. At the very least, if she played her cards well, the southern nobles would become too upset. "Do we have a method of filtering out these spores?"
"Breathing filtration units are proven effective," Vidriov replied. "However, should the density of the spores continue to grow in the air, it is possible that fully sealed equipment will be required."
"Have survey teams monitor the spore levels," Ellen said. "And make sure to have similar teams investigate the air levels in all the hive cities connected to Malum via the transit. If even one of them is infected, we need to know as soon as possible."
"As you command, Inquisitor," Vidriov said, before adding, "At the very least, this 'infection' does not appear dangerous."
The-thing-that-was-not-Crick leapt to the side as her stubber fired, the crack of the ballistics shattering the silence of the Underhive. Its mouth split apart in a way that should have broken Crick's jaw and a trio of the red-tipped stalks she'd seen before emerged. However, there was no time to think about the implications of that, because the monster was coming for her.
Letting out a roar that shook the air, Hoog rushed forwards, club swinging horizontally in an effort to catch the changed mutant in its chest, if not smash it outright. With the nimbleness and strength of a giant spider, the thing leapt up, higher than any man should have been able to, latching onto the ceiling of the corridor and seemingly hanging there for a moment, vacant eyes staring down at them.
Grease brought the flamer upwards and Lysilla felt a rush of heat as the ceiling was bathed in promethium fire. The sudden shift in light was almost enough to blind her, like she was staring into a reactor core, but she pushed through the pain and continued to fire her stubber into the flames at where she believed Crick had been.
A dark shape, wreathed in flames, let out a horrifying scream as it fell from the ceiling like falling debris, claws outstretched for Grease. However, Hoog was there in a matter of moments, the Ogryn's great club ripping through the air to slam into the abomination with enough force that an audible crack echoed up and down the corridors. The creature was flung like a ragdoll into the rockrecte wall, where it struck with a wet crunch, its charred and cracked skin still smoldering. It laid there, unmoving, and Lysilla breathed out a sigh of relief.
The fires of the flamer died, Lysilla glad the weapon wasn't using militarum-grade promethium, which could burn for minutes even underwater. The smoke was already beginning to fill the corridor, which was seeming less and less expansive by the minute.
"Get… Out…" Lysilla said between pants, the rush of adrenaline starting to wear off. "Need to… breathe… clearly…"
Hoog was the first out of the smoke, his long strides carrying him forward much faster than the others, but he was also choking and panting much harder than she was. Only Grease seemed unaffected by the smoke and she envied him his mask. She would need to get one of those for next time.
They stood in the clearer part of the corridor for a little while, just catching their breath, but she saw Grease staring back towards the lingering smoke, flamer still held ready.
"Its… dead, Grease," Lysilla said, after managing to regulate her breath a bit more.
"What wuz it?" Hoog asked, genuinely sounding disturbed. "Looked like Crick."
"Dunno," Lysilla replied. "But the Boss will want to know about it. Did you see those stalks in its mouth? Saw those on something else earlier, some kind of meat vine."
Grease turned, glancing at her, seemingly in confusion. It was the last mistake he would make.
A tendril, covered in swiftly peeling charred skin and sharp protrusions of bone, whipped out of the smoke at high speed. In less than a second, it had reached Grease and wrapped around his neck, the sharpened bones digging past his mask to find purchase in the flesh beneath. Lysilla's eyes widened, but she could do nothing before the tendril tugged and, like the revving of a chainsword, the bones cut through meat and arteries in an instant.
Grease collapsed, spasming as a waterfall of blood poured down him, the flamer dropping from his hands and clattering to the floor. Emerging from the smoke behind him, its tendril slowly retracting, the monster crawled forwards. Its blackened skin was cracked and broke off in pieces, what had once been Crick's eyes had popped from the heat and cauterized, its mouth had been sealed shut by melted flesh that had cooled. Yet, it endured.
And it was furious.
A sound like a scream came from it, but it was warped by the damage done to it and muffled by its lack of a mouth, yet that only served to make it even more horrible to hear.
Lysilla brought her stubber up once more and fired, her first shot going wide, but her second striking true, slicing through the tendril that had killed Grease. The limb sloughed off, as though attached by nothing more than slime, twitching as it fell, yet the thing seemed uncaring of the loss.
Hoog rushed forwards, club raised up in preparation to bring it down and truly smash the monster. The thing just stood there, waiting for it, its single clawed hand flexing.
The moment Hoog's club arced downwards, the thing moved, far more swiftly than Crick had ever been, narrowly dodging to the side and leaping at Hoog, its arm and legs latching onto the Ogryn in something almost like an embrace. Lysilla watched in horror as the thing's mouth seemed to strain against its own melted flesh until the skin finally gave, the sound of its sealed lips ripping apart something she knew she would carry to her death. The maw of the monster opened wide to reveal the trio of stalks and a row of razor-sharp teeth which it brought down in a vicious bite around Hoog's shoulder.
The Ogryn let out a pained roar as the fangs of the abomination sank deeper, tearing through skin and muscle. The monster seemed to be almost retching even as it bit deeper. This time, however, it was the creature that had made the mistake.
Hoog grabbed the thing by one of its legs and tore it from its embrace, taking a chunk of his own flesh with it in its maw. Still holding onto the limb, Hoog brought the monster back over its head in an arc like his club, slamming the creature into the floor with as much force as its adrenaline-fueled, abhuman muscles could muster, splattering gory meat everywhere as bones were shattered and internal organs ruptured.
Hoog wasn't done though, as it brought the creature back up and slammed it down, against the floors, the walls, again and again, roaring the entire time, shoulder still bleeding profusely and leaking a viscous, yellow liquid as well. By the time the Ogryn was done, the only thing left in his massive hands was the crushed, lower half of one of the creature's legs. Everything else was a red and yellow paste that coated everything, the stench overpowering even the smell of smoke.
Hoog panted heavily, not looking even slightly pained from his wound, staring down at the crumpled leg. The Ogryn snorted derisively and dropped the limb, before raising one massive, booted foot and slamming it down again and again onto the final piece of Crick.
Once even that final remnant was unrecognizable, Hoog stopped, his breathing starting to slow and a look of pain appearing on his face.
"Hoog need stim," The Ogryn said, turning towards Lysilla, who was watching him with wide eyes. She had never seen that level of violence from the Ogryn, not in all her years working alongside him.
His voice shook her from her thoughts and she quickly got out one of the precious few vials of stims. There were few times she would be willing to use such a rare resource, usually only in situations of true need.
She wasn't sure if Hoog needed a stim, but he definitely wanted one and Lysilla wasn't brave enough to deny an Ogryn coming down from the adrenaline of combat.
Lysilla brought the stim up and injected it into the Ogryn, whose meaty fingers were too large to properly use the syringe. Hoog seemed uneasy around the needle, but a look of great relief crossed his brutish features as the stimulant began to work its way through him, letting out a relaxed sigh.
"Hoog feel better," The Ogryn said, though his shoulder was still bleeding profusely.
"Let me patch you up, big guy," Lysilla said, though there wasn't too much she could actually do. She cleaned the wound as best she could, wiping away the strange liquid, which she took care not to touch with her own skin. They didn't have any bandages large enough to properly wrap such a large wound, so she tore away the lower half of Grease's shirt, which was less covered in blood than its upper part, and wrapped that around the shoulder and under the arm of the Ogryn. It was just barely long enough to reach and she tied it fast with actual bandages. It wasn't the cleanest of coverings, but it was what they had, the grey cloth quickly turning a near black as it soaked up the blood of the Ogryn.
Lysilla noted, almost distantly, that her hands were shaking as she worked on the Ogryn. The feeling was familiar, but its intensity was worse than she'd ever known. She tried to steady her breathing, but gave up after a short time, just trying to focus on the task at hand. All the while, she eyed the meaty residue of what had once been Crick, as though uncertain if it was really dead.
"Let's get out of here," Lysilla said, swiftly rising the moment she was finished with the patchwork. Hoog grunted in agreement and stood.
They walked in silence, eyes on the shadows, for around thirty minutes, trying to move quietly. Hoog was surprisingly silent at first, but as time went on he began to pant, every breath sounding more labored than the last.
"Hoog feel… tired," the Ogryn finally said. Lysilla frowned, wondering if Crick-, if that thing had some kind of venom in its fangs. While Crick himself never had, who knew what changes had happened below the skin in addition to those above it. She'd done the best she could for the Ogryn and hadn't seen anything unusual about his wound, but perhaps the Ogryn had simply exerted himself more than usual? She would get Hoog as much help as she could manage to scrape together once they got back.
"Uurgh," Hoog groaned, alarming Lysilla with just how slurred his voice sounded. She turned and looked closer at the Ogryn's face and was shocked by just how pale and an almost sickly yellow it was. He looked almost diseased. She hadn't been watching him during their journey, not noticing his worsening state.
"Hoog?" Lysilla said, but the Ogryn just stumbled toward the wall, slumping against it with enough force to send vibrations through the rockcrete and ceramite. "Hoog, talk to me, buddy."
"Huuruu," Hoog murmured. His face was slump, his eyes drooping as though he were about to fall asleep. She would have thought him just exhausted were it not for his skin's change. "Tyyy-duh… suuuaaayyy… sluueep…"
"What?" Lysilla asked, reaching out to tap the giant on the shoulder. Her hand froze, inches away from the mutant, when she realized what had happened.
Lysilla yelped in terror, her hands scrambling for her stubber, but it was too late. The massive hand of what had once been Hoog snapped out with far more speed and dexterity than any ogryn should have possessed and wrapped around her arms and waist, holding her tight.
Lysilla froze as she was picked up off the ground like a doll, her legs dangling under her, her torso and arms held in an iron grip that, while not crushing, was still unbreakable. The ogryn's body rose to his feet, none of the weariness from before showing, his eyes open and alert, yet possessing none of the dumb warmth of Hoog, only the same vacant stare that Crick's had been like.
"Hoog, please!" Lysilla begged, not knowing if anything of the Ogryn was even left. Any moment, she expected to feel the hand tighten and crush her, bones and organs exploding like Crick had.
Hoog's head tilted, almost as if he understood her words and a spark of hope was lit in her. That died when she heard the thing speak. It was Hoog's voice, but it was not the Ogryn who spoke.
"Hoog's indisposed for the moment," The thing said, and it was a strange horror on top of everything else to hear such a deep and sluggish voice speak so eloquently. "I think he deserves the rest, don't you?"
Lysilla wanted to scream, but she choked on the sound. The Ogryn just stared at her with an incomprehensible look on Hoog's face, before turning and walking away with her in hand.
Walking back towards where they had come from.
"No, no, no!" Lysilla shouted, tears streaming down her eyes. Her legs lashed out and kicked at the mutant, her arms struggled to open even a small gap in the behemoth's grasp, but it was all useless. She strained her hand and tried to bring her hip up so she could reach her stubber, but the thing that wasn't Hoog merely clicked its tongue or tried to anyways, the result sounding more like a wet squelch. Ogryn tongues were not meant for some things.
"Now, now, no need for that," The thing said, its other hand reaching around and, with more delicacy than an Ogryn had any right to possess, plucked her stubber out of its holster, stuffing it down one of the massive pockets of Hoog's pants. "Sorry about the other two, I didn't have any spiders or pods around. I'd have kept them alive if I could. Well… that was the intent, before you burned me."
The anger in the Ogryn's voice was accompanied by a slight tightening of his grip, crushing the air from Lysilla's lungs. It lasted only a moment before it relented.
Lysilla bowed her head, whispering words of supplication in between quiet sobs, praying for the first time in seven years. She asked, begged the God-Emperor to save her, to intervene and destroy whatever monster this was. She promised she would go and join the Guard like she'd been expected to, live her life in utter devotion, if He would just save her from this monster.
But no one answered.
"Here we are," Hoog said after a short walk. Lysilla looked up, blinking away her tears, but she couldn't see anything. The lamp packs were off and the darkness reigned here. She could barely see the hand still holding her in its iron grip and heard almost nothing. Even the changed Ogryn's heavy breathing was subdued.
Then, she heard the scurrying, the taptaptap of small, thin legs rapidly hitting rockrete, coming closer and closer. She tried to keep praying, but her sobs made her choke on the words.
She screamed as she felt something leap up onto her leg and begin crawling upwards, something with many limbs. She flailed and kicked, but it was nimble and she could not dislodge it. The feeling of it disappeared when it reached Hoog's hand, but she knew it would return soon.
She screamed and screamed and screamed, until her screaming was silenced as something tore out her throat.
Lysilla jerked awake, panting and caked in sweat, her face pale as death, her hand immediately going to the stubber resting in its holster.
Grease glanced up at her, grunting a wordless question. He was working on the flamer, performing maintenance. Farther away, Hoog was lying on the floor, massive chest slowly rising and falling in the even breaths of sleep.
"I-! I-!" Lysilla stuttered in confusion and fear, her eyes wild and going everywhere. "W-what was-"
Grease just grunted again, shaking his head as if annoyed.
It was just a nightmare. The realization hit her like a blast of warm air and she slumped against the wall, trying to get her breathing under control even as she began to laugh.
Everything had just been a dream. Hoog and Grease were alive, and Crick was probably skulking about somewhere, but what had really happened?
The memories flooded back into her. They'd gone to investigate weird reports about the expanding wasps. Turned out, two new wasp hives had moved into the area in addition to the old one. It was unusual, sure, but nothing bad. A simple thing to take care of or just ignore.
Nothing like her dream had been, like… Like what?
The dream's contents were already fading from her memory, and she shook her head, chuckling a little at the childishness of a bad dream getting her so worked up. It was a good thing Crick hadn't seen her or he'd be mocking her the rest of the trip back.
"Wake Hoog, would you?" She said to Grease, who just nodded. "I'll find Crick. We should get moving again soon."
Lysilla stood and stretched, wondering if she had slept strangely. Her neck was oddly sore, but she just rolled her head a few times and the strange feeling went away.
"The Boss will be pleased, huh?" She said with a wry grin to Grease, who grunted affirmatively. "I don't know what he's so worried about. There's never anything new in the Underhive."
Inquisitor Catherine Ellen strode through the laboratory's entrance, her thick boots clomping heavily against the metal floor, the soft whir of her power armor barely audible over the clanking. While she normally would only wear her armor in expectation of combat, recent developments had revealed to her that such an expectation should be constant on Monstrum. While no attempts had been made yet, she knew well the court of the Planetary Governor, Selvik Monstrum, whose family the planet had been named after, would like nothing more than to see her suffer an unfortunate accident.
Many things had gone wrong for Catherine Ellen in the past few months. She'd come to Monstrum originally to raise an army to deal with a certain threat which required a large force of guardsman. In that, she had succeeded, but the fleet intended to transport them to their destination had never arrived before the Warp Storm had descended. The ship she herself had arrived on had departed shortly before that as well, leaving her stranded upon the planet's surface until the storm lifted.
And yet, that was only the start of the frustrations. While initially Selvik's court had been welcoming and gracious of her, showing her proper respect and fear, they had been slowly becoming more and more bold. Not in front of her, never in front of her, but they were not so skilled in subterfuge that she could not determine what was going on.
A revolt was in the brewing. Perhaps it was because of her presence and her demand for twenty regiments of guardsman taken from the local PDF or perhaps it was something that had been boiling under the surface for much longer. Purilla, the psyker Ellen kept on her retinue, had claimed that the stench of the Warp was rank upon this world, but Ellen had not failed to notice her subordinate's beliefs had only emerged after the Warp Storm had descended. While a Chaotic presence was not impossible, there was also the possibility that the 'stench' Purilla smelled was merely the Immaterial forces crashing around the system.
Even that suspicion alone would have normally been enough for Ellen to focus entirely on dismantling the revolt before it could even begin, preferably through a cleanse of the noble families and hive cities involved, but there was an even greater problem at hand. Said problem was the reason she had come to the laboratory of her personal tech-priest, Genetor Vidriov. Or, rather, the empty office space that the red robed man had taken over as his laboratory.
"Report, Vidriov."
"Inquisitor," The Tech-Priest said, rising from his work. Said work was the dissected remains of a creature that looked like a tall, human male. However, the internal organs that were on full display revealed it's more sinister nature. "The presence of the fourth generation of the Genestealer reproductive cycle indicates an advanced infiltration."
Genetor Vidriov was tall, nearing two meters in total. Despite his long-standing within the Mechanicus, he was only around fifty percent augmented by machine, instead preferring genetic enhancements, something not uncommon among Magos Biologis. While nowhere on the level of a being like an Astartes, the Genetor was still many times stronger than a regular human and his flesh-parts had been kept in prime shape for several centuries longer than Ellen had been alive, much less a full Inquisitor.
"I gathered that," Ellen replied, somewhat curtly. "What I want to know is why this world hasn't already fallen into revolt. There is little doubt they know of our own awareness of them, so if they are so far along, why wait?"
"The innerworkings of the minds of xenos are difficult to comprehend at the best of times," Vidriov said needlessly. "However, I theorize that their spread is not so all-encompassing as previously feared."
"Elaborate."
"Consider this specimen," Vidriov said, gesturing to the corpse with a mechadendrite. "It was discovered within hive city Enyo, attempting to subvert a hive gang. Such tactics are commonly conducted by drones in the early stages of infiltration, not more advanced specimens that should be used for missions of greater importance.
"It is possible that the Genestealer infiltration of Monstrum is advanced but localized. The string of protests and riots documented to have occurred across the southern hives led to the implementation of martial law in 981.M41 for several decade, ending only after our arrival."
The Planetary Governor had claimed that news of her presence had calmed the rioters, but she knew otherwise. The governor had been afraid she'd be displeased by the riots and tried to keep her from learning it by ending the declaration of martial law. It hadn't worked of course, though the riots had stopped after the news of the conscription of twenty regiments of Imperial Guardsman had spread.
"I theorize that the Genestealers were unable to spread effectively between hive cities. While the reproductive cycle is advanced enough that a full-scale revolt should occur now or very soon, they lack the actual numbers to succeed. Our awareness of them is not a significant enough threat for them to act openly."
"Why? As far as they know, we have twenty guard regiments and most of the planet's defense forces to call upon."
"Genestealers, abominable though they are, possess great intelligence," Vidriov said, again needlessly. "It is possible they are counting on the political instability of Monstrum to prevent any unified Imperial response."
"Mm," Ellen murmured, stroking her chin in thought. "The issue is, they're likely right. The southern nobles aren't openly opposed to me or the governor, but I can tell they're plotting something."
"A purge of malefactors may be conducive," Vidriov suggested and Ellen gave him a small smile.
"Were it so easy," She said, shaking her head. "Keep me updated."
"Of course," Vidriov toned. Just as she turned to leave, however, the Tech-Priest continued. "Inquisitor."
"Yes?"
"There is another matter which I suspect will be of interest to you."
Ellen turned back, arching an eyebrow at the Genetor. "And that would be?"
One of the thin mechadendrites of the Genetor flicked around to retrieve something from the table, bringing it up for Ellen to see. It was a small vial of some cloud-like, yellowish substance.
"What am I looking at?" Ellen asked, taking a closer look at the vial. The clouds seemed to move and swirl in the vial, despite there being no wind to move the particles contained within.
"A sample of anomalous airborne spores found within several of hive city Malum's lower levels." Vidriov stated. "This sample was taken from the highest concentration of the organisms discovered by survey teams I deployed approximately forty-five hours ago. It took up roughly three percent of the air's particles. Its origins are unknown."
"Some kind of virus weapon?" Ellen asked, suddenly very concerned, and Vidriov's mechadendrites whirred again as it returned the vial to a rack of several similar samples.
"Experimentation is ongoing," Vidriov stated, and Ellen's eyes narrowed at that.
"What kind of experimentation?" Ellen demanded and Vidriov held his hands up in a placating gesture that was quite human for a Priest of Mars.
"Isolated exposure to subjects under extreme quarantine procedures," Vidriov answered, and Ellen's ire calmed. If he was being careful, then it should be fine. "Observance of locals revealed no surface level effects of exposure."
"Surface level," Ellen repeated and Vidriov nodded.
"Initial experimentation yielded more noticeable results in isolated subjects, who could be observed more closely," the Genetor said. "Within twenty-four hours of inhaling a sample, the organism had begun to spread throughout the bloodstream, with notable areas of build-up along the nervous system and within the lungs."
"A mind virus." It was a statement, not a question, but Vidriov nodded anyways. Ellen had a grim look on her face. Best case scenario, the virus wasn't too harmful, but the young Inquisitor had found there were very rarely any 'best case' scenarios. At worst, it was some kind of mind control, either Chaotic or Xenos in origins.
"That is a possibility. However, an important discovery was that the health of exposed subjects improved dramatically," Vidriov continued. "All other diseases and toxins within the subjects were eradicated by the organism."
"What?" Ellen said, more out of surprise than anything else, but Vidriov was not done.
"I administered a sample of almost every type of biological weapon I currently have access to," Vidriov stated. "Each was similarly eradicated before it could harm the subject."
"Complete immunity?" Ellen was shocked. Such a thing was more than extraordinary, it should have been outright impossible. "How can that be?"
"I possess several theories," Vidriov said and Ellen noted a slight inflection in the tone of the priest's void modulator, something that only happened when he was truly excited. It also told her that of those 'several' theories, there was one he believed absolutely to be true.
"Do tell."
"While this could be of Genestealer origin, the biomass utilized within the spores are not of Tyranid make," Vidriov said, only somewhat allaying the worst of Ellen's fears. "I theorize that this organism is not of Xenos origin."
"You think humanity made this?" Ellen said, unsure of whether she should be offended.
"I believe this is the result of a form of Archaeotech," Vidriov announced, a near fanatical tint to his modulator. "Legends speak of an STC called the Panacea, a device capable of curing all biological illnesses."
"And you believe these… spores to be this Panacea?" Ellen questioned, skeptical.
"Perhaps or a similar form of that lost technology," Vidriov said. "If my theory is correct, this could be the greatest discovery in the history of the Mechanicus! The benefits for the Imperium would be limitless."
"Or disastrous if you are wrong," Ellen countered. "This was discovered in Malum, yes?"
"Correct."
"Then have the hive city placed under quarantine," Ellen commanded. It was a drastic action, but a mind plague spreading, especially in the southern cities, was too great of a risk. At the very least, if she played her cards well, the southern nobles would become too upset. "Do we have a method of filtering out these spores?"
"Breathing filtration units are proven effective," Vidriov replied. "However, should the density of the spores continue to grow in the air, it is possible that fully sealed equipment will be required."
"Have survey teams monitor the spore levels," Ellen said. "And make sure to have similar teams investigate the air levels in all the hive cities connected to Malum via the transit. If even one of them is infected, we need to know as soon as possible."
"As you command, Inquisitor," Vidriov said, before adding, "At the very least, this 'infection' does not appear dangerous."
The-thing-that-was-not-Crick leapt to the side as her stubber fired, the crack of the ballistics shattering the silence of the Underhive. Its mouth split apart in a way that should have broken Crick's jaw and a trio of the red-tipped stalks she'd seen before emerged. However, there was no time to think about the implications of that, because the monster was coming for her.
Letting out a roar that shook the air, Hoog rushed forwards, club swinging horizontally in an effort to catch the changed mutant in its chest, if not smash it outright. With the nimbleness and strength of a giant spider, the thing leapt up, higher than any man should have been able to, latching onto the ceiling of the corridor and seemingly hanging there for a moment, vacant eyes staring down at them.
Grease brought the flamer upwards and Lysilla felt a rush of heat as the ceiling was bathed in promethium fire. The sudden shift in light was almost enough to blind her, like she was staring into a reactor core, but she pushed through the pain and continued to fire her stubber into the flames at where she believed Crick had been.
A dark shape, wreathed in flames, let out a horrifying scream as it fell from the ceiling like falling debris, claws outstretched for Grease. However, Hoog was there in a matter of moments, the Ogryn's great club ripping through the air to slam into the abomination with enough force that an audible crack echoed up and down the corridors. The creature was flung like a ragdoll into the rockrecte wall, where it struck with a wet crunch, its charred and cracked skin still smoldering. It laid there, unmoving, and Lysilla breathed out a sigh of relief.
The fires of the flamer died, Lysilla glad the weapon wasn't using militarum-grade promethium, which could burn for minutes even underwater. The smoke was already beginning to fill the corridor, which was seeming less and less expansive by the minute.
"Get… Out…" Lysilla said between pants, the rush of adrenaline starting to wear off. "Need to… breathe… clearly…"
Hoog was the first out of the smoke, his long strides carrying him forward much faster than the others, but he was also choking and panting much harder than she was. Only Grease seemed unaffected by the smoke and she envied him his mask. She would need to get one of those for next time.
They stood in the clearer part of the corridor for a little while, just catching their breath, but she saw Grease staring back towards the lingering smoke, flamer still held ready.
"Its… dead, Grease," Lysilla said, after managing to regulate her breath a bit more.
"What wuz it?" Hoog asked, genuinely sounding disturbed. "Looked like Crick."
"Dunno," Lysilla replied. "But the Boss will want to know about it. Did you see those stalks in its mouth? Saw those on something else earlier, some kind of meat vine."
Grease turned, glancing at her, seemingly in confusion. It was the last mistake he would make.
A tendril, covered in swiftly peeling charred skin and sharp protrusions of bone, whipped out of the smoke at high speed. In less than a second, it had reached Grease and wrapped around his neck, the sharpened bones digging past his mask to find purchase in the flesh beneath. Lysilla's eyes widened, but she could do nothing before the tendril tugged and, like the revving of a chainsword, the bones cut through meat and arteries in an instant.
Grease collapsed, spasming as a waterfall of blood poured down him, the flamer dropping from his hands and clattering to the floor. Emerging from the smoke behind him, its tendril slowly retracting, the monster crawled forwards. Its blackened skin was cracked and broke off in pieces, what had once been Crick's eyes had popped from the heat and cauterized, its mouth had been sealed shut by melted flesh that had cooled. Yet, it endured.
And it was furious.
A sound like a scream came from it, but it was warped by the damage done to it and muffled by its lack of a mouth, yet that only served to make it even more horrible to hear.
Lysilla brought her stubber up once more and fired, her first shot going wide, but her second striking true, slicing through the tendril that had killed Grease. The limb sloughed off, as though attached by nothing more than slime, twitching as it fell, yet the thing seemed uncaring of the loss.
Hoog rushed forwards, club raised up in preparation to bring it down and truly smash the monster. The thing just stood there, waiting for it, its single clawed hand flexing.
The moment Hoog's club arced downwards, the thing moved, far more swiftly than Crick had ever been, narrowly dodging to the side and leaping at Hoog, its arm and legs latching onto the Ogryn in something almost like an embrace. Lysilla watched in horror as the thing's mouth seemed to strain against its own melted flesh until the skin finally gave, the sound of its sealed lips ripping apart something she knew she would carry to her death. The maw of the monster opened wide to reveal the trio of stalks and a row of razor-sharp teeth which it brought down in a vicious bite around Hoog's shoulder.
The Ogryn let out a pained roar as the fangs of the abomination sank deeper, tearing through skin and muscle. The monster seemed to be almost retching even as it bit deeper. This time, however, it was the creature that had made the mistake.
Hoog grabbed the thing by one of its legs and tore it from its embrace, taking a chunk of his own flesh with it in its maw. Still holding onto the limb, Hoog brought the monster back over its head in an arc like his club, slamming the creature into the floor with as much force as its adrenaline-fueled, abhuman muscles could muster, splattering gory meat everywhere as bones were shattered and internal organs ruptured.
Hoog wasn't done though, as it brought the creature back up and slammed it down, against the floors, the walls, again and again, roaring the entire time, shoulder still bleeding profusely and leaking a viscous, yellow liquid as well. By the time the Ogryn was done, the only thing left in his massive hands was the crushed, lower half of one of the creature's legs. Everything else was a red and yellow paste that coated everything, the stench overpowering even the smell of smoke.
Hoog panted heavily, not looking even slightly pained from his wound, staring down at the crumpled leg. The Ogryn snorted derisively and dropped the limb, before raising one massive, booted foot and slamming it down again and again onto the final piece of Crick.
Once even that final remnant was unrecognizable, Hoog stopped, his breathing starting to slow and a look of pain appearing on his face.
"Hoog need stim," The Ogryn said, turning towards Lysilla, who was watching him with wide eyes. She had never seen that level of violence from the Ogryn, not in all her years working alongside him.
His voice shook her from her thoughts and she quickly got out one of the precious few vials of stims. There were few times she would be willing to use such a rare resource, usually only in situations of true need.
She wasn't sure if Hoog needed a stim, but he definitely wanted one and Lysilla wasn't brave enough to deny an Ogryn coming down from the adrenaline of combat.
Lysilla brought the stim up and injected it into the Ogryn, whose meaty fingers were too large to properly use the syringe. Hoog seemed uneasy around the needle, but a look of great relief crossed his brutish features as the stimulant began to work its way through him, letting out a relaxed sigh.
"Hoog feel better," The Ogryn said, though his shoulder was still bleeding profusely.
"Let me patch you up, big guy," Lysilla said, though there wasn't too much she could actually do. She cleaned the wound as best she could, wiping away the strange liquid, which she took care not to touch with her own skin. They didn't have any bandages large enough to properly wrap such a large wound, so she tore away the lower half of Grease's shirt, which was less covered in blood than its upper part, and wrapped that around the shoulder and under the arm of the Ogryn. It was just barely long enough to reach and she tied it fast with actual bandages. It wasn't the cleanest of coverings, but it was what they had, the grey cloth quickly turning a near black as it soaked up the blood of the Ogryn.
Lysilla noted, almost distantly, that her hands were shaking as she worked on the Ogryn. The feeling was familiar, but its intensity was worse than she'd ever known. She tried to steady her breathing, but gave up after a short time, just trying to focus on the task at hand. All the while, she eyed the meaty residue of what had once been Crick, as though uncertain if it was really dead.
"Let's get out of here," Lysilla said, swiftly rising the moment she was finished with the patchwork. Hoog grunted in agreement and stood.
They walked in silence, eyes on the shadows, for around thirty minutes, trying to move quietly. Hoog was surprisingly silent at first, but as time went on he began to pant, every breath sounding more labored than the last.
"Hoog feel… tired," the Ogryn finally said. Lysilla frowned, wondering if Crick-, if that thing had some kind of venom in its fangs. While Crick himself never had, who knew what changes had happened below the skin in addition to those above it. She'd done the best she could for the Ogryn and hadn't seen anything unusual about his wound, but perhaps the Ogryn had simply exerted himself more than usual? She would get Hoog as much help as she could manage to scrape together once they got back.
"Uurgh," Hoog groaned, alarming Lysilla with just how slurred his voice sounded. She turned and looked closer at the Ogryn's face and was shocked by just how pale and an almost sickly yellow it was. He looked almost diseased. She hadn't been watching him during their journey, not noticing his worsening state.
"Hoog?" Lysilla said, but the Ogryn just stumbled toward the wall, slumping against it with enough force to send vibrations through the rockcrete and ceramite. "Hoog, talk to me, buddy."
"Huuruu," Hoog murmured. His face was slump, his eyes drooping as though he were about to fall asleep. She would have thought him just exhausted were it not for his skin's change. "Tyyy-duh… suuuaaayyy… sluueep…"
"What?" Lysilla asked, reaching out to tap the giant on the shoulder. Her hand froze, inches away from the mutant, when she realized what had happened.
Lysilla yelped in terror, her hands scrambling for her stubber, but it was too late. The massive hand of what had once been Hoog snapped out with far more speed and dexterity than any ogryn should have possessed and wrapped around her arms and waist, holding her tight.
Lysilla froze as she was picked up off the ground like a doll, her legs dangling under her, her torso and arms held in an iron grip that, while not crushing, was still unbreakable. The ogryn's body rose to his feet, none of the weariness from before showing, his eyes open and alert, yet possessing none of the dumb warmth of Hoog, only the same vacant stare that Crick's had been like.
"Hoog, please!" Lysilla begged, not knowing if anything of the Ogryn was even left. Any moment, she expected to feel the hand tighten and crush her, bones and organs exploding like Crick had.
Hoog's head tilted, almost as if he understood her words and a spark of hope was lit in her. That died when she heard the thing speak. It was Hoog's voice, but it was not the Ogryn who spoke.
"Hoog's indisposed for the moment," The thing said, and it was a strange horror on top of everything else to hear such a deep and sluggish voice speak so eloquently. "I think he deserves the rest, don't you?"
Lysilla wanted to scream, but she choked on the sound. The Ogryn just stared at her with an incomprehensible look on Hoog's face, before turning and walking away with her in hand.
Walking back towards where they had come from.
"No, no, no!" Lysilla shouted, tears streaming down her eyes. Her legs lashed out and kicked at the mutant, her arms struggled to open even a small gap in the behemoth's grasp, but it was all useless. She strained her hand and tried to bring her hip up so she could reach her stubber, but the thing that wasn't Hoog merely clicked its tongue or tried to anyways, the result sounding more like a wet squelch. Ogryn tongues were not meant for some things.
"Now, now, no need for that," The thing said, its other hand reaching around and, with more delicacy than an Ogryn had any right to possess, plucked her stubber out of its holster, stuffing it down one of the massive pockets of Hoog's pants. "Sorry about the other two, I didn't have any spiders or pods around. I'd have kept them alive if I could. Well… that was the intent, before you burned me."
The anger in the Ogryn's voice was accompanied by a slight tightening of his grip, crushing the air from Lysilla's lungs. It lasted only a moment before it relented.
Lysilla bowed her head, whispering words of supplication in between quiet sobs, praying for the first time in seven years. She asked, begged the God-Emperor to save her, to intervene and destroy whatever monster this was. She promised she would go and join the Guard like she'd been expected to, live her life in utter devotion, if He would just save her from this monster.
But no one answered.
"Here we are," Hoog said after a short walk. Lysilla looked up, blinking away her tears, but she couldn't see anything. The lamp packs were off and the darkness reigned here. She could barely see the hand still holding her in its iron grip and heard almost nothing. Even the changed Ogryn's heavy breathing was subdued.
Then, she heard the scurrying, the taptaptap of small, thin legs rapidly hitting rockrete, coming closer and closer. She tried to keep praying, but her sobs made her choke on the words.
She screamed as she felt something leap up onto her leg and begin crawling upwards, something with many limbs. She flailed and kicked, but it was nimble and she could not dislodge it. The feeling of it disappeared when it reached Hoog's hand, but she knew it would return soon.
She screamed and screamed and screamed, until her screaming was silenced as something tore out her throat.
Lysilla jerked awake, panting and caked in sweat, her face pale as death, her hand immediately going to the stubber resting in its holster.
Grease glanced up at her, grunting a wordless question. He was working on the flamer, performing maintenance. Farther away, Hoog was lying on the floor, massive chest slowly rising and falling in the even breaths of sleep.
"I-! I-!" Lysilla stuttered in confusion and fear, her eyes wild and going everywhere. "W-what was-"
Grease just grunted again, shaking his head as if annoyed.
It was just a nightmare. The realization hit her like a blast of warm air and she slumped against the wall, trying to get her breathing under control even as she began to laugh.
Everything had just been a dream. Hoog and Grease were alive, and Crick was probably skulking about somewhere, but what had really happened?
The memories flooded back into her. They'd gone to investigate weird reports about the expanding wasps. Turned out, two new wasp hives had moved into the area in addition to the old one. It was unusual, sure, but nothing bad. A simple thing to take care of or just ignore.
Nothing like her dream had been, like… Like what?
The dream's contents were already fading from her memory, and she shook her head, chuckling a little at the childishness of a bad dream getting her so worked up. It was a good thing Crick hadn't seen her or he'd be mocking her the rest of the trip back.
"Wake Hoog, would you?" She said to Grease, who just nodded. "I'll find Crick. We should get moving again soon."
Lysilla stood and stretched, wondering if she had slept strangely. Her neck was oddly sore, but she just rolled her head a few times and the strange feeling went away.
"The Boss will be pleased, huh?" She said with a wry grin to Grease, who grunted affirmatively. "I don't know what he's so worried about. There's never anything new in the Underhive."
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Hope yall enjoy the chonkier chapter
Drunk Hierophant
Aspirant Archailect
- Pronouns
- He
Well, that isn't fucking terrorific at all, no sir
Great chapter, thanks!
Great chapter, thanks!
Truly insidious indeed.