- Location
- yorkshire
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The Long Night Part One: Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) Complete Sequel Up
- Thread starter Durin
- Start date
The Right of Challenge
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
The Right of Challenge
High above the skies of Avernus the Lord of the First Circle hung in repose, directing its vast legions in combat against the monsters of the World, replacing every one that fell with a dozen fresh servants. A mere fraction of the billions dying every second against the piteous walls of the Xenos birds and their impressive sorcery, but enough to be effective for this stage of the campaign.
Its personal guards moved rapidly to defend it from the attacks that constantly came for it, the defenders of the world, the so-called Guardians impotent against its resplendent defence. Yet as it almost began to ignore its surroundings an odd attack came rocketing towards it, made all the more shocking and impressive by how successful it was. All that it was, was a simple, if massive piece of stone, thrown with such immense force that the Second Circle Lord who blocked it was forced backwards through the air, its arm broken and armour dented, drawing rapidly upon its reserves of power as it worked with its fellows to block the subsequent barrages of granite.
Yet so many where being thrown with such supernatural skill that it was inevitable that one would slip through as the injuries its guards sustained blocking the attacks mounted, one eventually making its way through a crack left by a shattered rib cage. The stone crashed directly into the First's face, snapping its head to the side as pain arched through its skull, its concentration instantly broken.
On the surface it seemed serene as it turned towards the source of the irritation, seeing a single xenos standing atop a mountain, holding another boulder in its scaled hand. With senses as finely tuned and blessed by the God Emperor it could see the grin that marked the creature's face as it tossed its several tonne rock up and down in a single scaled hand, before it moved instantly from a standing position to throwing.
Asserting its dominance and willpower, the missile disintegrated before it could reach it as the Angyl abandoned its previous serenity and advanced towards the Lizard, ignoring the thousands of warnings torn from the lips of a million daemons as to the strength of the Ancient One that it had been given in it fury.
This was no longer a matter of sense or reason this was a matter of disrespect and honour! It insulted the universe with its mere existence, but worst of all it had insulted the God Emperor by refusing to take this, its last encounter with its chosen servant seriously and for that it would personally met out the highest justice possible.
The Ancient One grinned even wider as the Angyl sped towards him, screaming about the insult he had supposedly dealt it, while he stood ready to receive its charge, already finding the perfect hole in its guard through which to begin dismantling it.
While it might be a stretch to term it psychology given the madness of daemons in general, he made sure to study the nature of his foes. Prideful and stubborn to a fault the Exalted were always excellent fodder for such tricks as these, until at last they wised up after he banished them for the third or fourth time. Assuming they survived that long.
The new exalted certainly lacked that experience, which was why it was about to die.
Daemons can be real idiots at times.
@Durin
High above the skies of Avernus the Lord of the First Circle hung in repose, directing its vast legions in combat against the monsters of the World, replacing every one that fell with a dozen fresh servants. A mere fraction of the billions dying every second against the piteous walls of the Xenos birds and their impressive sorcery, but enough to be effective for this stage of the campaign.
Its personal guards moved rapidly to defend it from the attacks that constantly came for it, the defenders of the world, the so-called Guardians impotent against its resplendent defence. Yet as it almost began to ignore its surroundings an odd attack came rocketing towards it, made all the more shocking and impressive by how successful it was. All that it was, was a simple, if massive piece of stone, thrown with such immense force that the Second Circle Lord who blocked it was forced backwards through the air, its arm broken and armour dented, drawing rapidly upon its reserves of power as it worked with its fellows to block the subsequent barrages of granite.
Yet so many where being thrown with such supernatural skill that it was inevitable that one would slip through as the injuries its guards sustained blocking the attacks mounted, one eventually making its way through a crack left by a shattered rib cage. The stone crashed directly into the First's face, snapping its head to the side as pain arched through its skull, its concentration instantly broken.
On the surface it seemed serene as it turned towards the source of the irritation, seeing a single xenos standing atop a mountain, holding another boulder in its scaled hand. With senses as finely tuned and blessed by the God Emperor it could see the grin that marked the creature's face as it tossed its several tonne rock up and down in a single scaled hand, before it moved instantly from a standing position to throwing.
Asserting its dominance and willpower, the missile disintegrated before it could reach it as the Angyl abandoned its previous serenity and advanced towards the Lizard, ignoring the thousands of warnings torn from the lips of a million daemons as to the strength of the Ancient One that it had been given in it fury.
This was no longer a matter of sense or reason this was a matter of disrespect and honour! It insulted the universe with its mere existence, but worst of all it had insulted the God Emperor by refusing to take this, its last encounter with its chosen servant seriously and for that it would personally met out the highest justice possible.
The Ancient One grinned even wider as the Angyl sped towards him, screaming about the insult he had supposedly dealt it, while he stood ready to receive its charge, already finding the perfect hole in its guard through which to begin dismantling it.
While it might be a stretch to term it psychology given the madness of daemons in general, he made sure to study the nature of his foes. Prideful and stubborn to a fault the Exalted were always excellent fodder for such tricks as these, until at last they wised up after he banished them for the third or fourth time. Assuming they survived that long.
The new exalted certainly lacked that experience, which was why it was about to die.
Daemons can be real idiots at times.
@Durin
As I understand it the acceleration just accelerates what naturally happens with artifacts, the traits they end up with is based on the user presumably, while ones without their Saurus presumably also gain power over time, just at the rate of regular artifacts.
- Location
- Too Deep in the Midnight Sea
I haven't followed much of the discussion, so sorry if it already came up, but would the runic firebomb from the Garden mission have the same god-wounding level of power if we threw it in the rift the invasion is coming from? Or the one the second enemy host would come from?
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Its a possibility, although at the moment its being kept as an emergency **** off bomb, since its likely the only item we have access too which can force an Exalted to fall back or even kill it.
- Location
- yorkshire
- Location
- USA
I fixed it.
No Other Options
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
No Other Options
It could not keep running. Not only was it humiliating, it was an insult to the God Emperor that his servant reacted with such cowardice towards a single revolting xenos, no matter how potent.
He knew the whispers that they had torn from the lips of the false god's daemons, the rumours of the being that had stood as the eternal guardian of this world since time immemorial, upon whose blade its equals in power and skill had been banished time and time again, sometimes slain entirely in an act that strained Occanereal's belief to its breaking point. Yet as it continued its flight away from the Ancient One, trying to stay a head of it, ordering Second after Second to intercept the monster, it began to doubt.
For deep within its gleaming heart it knew that this was the truth, even as its mind denied the obvious facts, refusing to admit the spark of fear that had wormed its way into its luminous soul. An impossibility made real by the spear carried by the Eldest Lizard and made manifest by its impossible prowess.
And whether it knew it or not the fear that it felt was justified, for it was faced with a foe that far surpassed it in the realm of arms, and upon who its divine techniques would be naught, but useless wisps struggling to find purchase upon a form that casually rejected such meagre attempts to influence it.
As another lord of the Second Circle fell into the embrace of true death, butchered into tiny chunks that fell weeping their blood to earth, Occanderael halted its flight to stare at the Lizardman leaping towards it as it prayed, mustering its hatred and contempt, armouring itself in spite made manifest as its burning blade came to its hand and its five times five whip sprang into being curled around its wrist.
It told itself the lies that it needed to hear. That it had stopped to deal with the irritation, that it was certain to win this fight as it had all others that it had engaged in the past, that there was none in existence save for the Emperor himself that could best it in combat. But these were, but the mind games all servants of the Abomination played upon themselves, for it stopped in truth because it had no other options. Its servants were doing little to slow the inevitable advance of the Ancient One supported as it was by the firepower of the world, while in turn it cut down Second after Second that could perform the needed rituals to bring their brother into the World and execute their duty. At the same time as it fled from him, in fear of being banished back to the warp and seeing their perfectly coordinated plan collapse due to lack of leadership time was running out. Their lord's patience was not infinite, and any risk of death on the spear of the Ancient One was preferable to the horrors it would experience if it failed and returned empty handed.
And so, it turned to face its eternal pursuer, giving the orders to the Seconds that remained to begin the ritual whilst he dealt with the interloper, preparing at last to engage in a true struggle for the first time in its neverborn life.
Angyls get afraid too you know! Their emotional range has a little bit more than just what they're given...its very little tho.
@Durin
It could not keep running. Not only was it humiliating, it was an insult to the God Emperor that his servant reacted with such cowardice towards a single revolting xenos, no matter how potent.
He knew the whispers that they had torn from the lips of the false god's daemons, the rumours of the being that had stood as the eternal guardian of this world since time immemorial, upon whose blade its equals in power and skill had been banished time and time again, sometimes slain entirely in an act that strained Occanereal's belief to its breaking point. Yet as it continued its flight away from the Ancient One, trying to stay a head of it, ordering Second after Second to intercept the monster, it began to doubt.
For deep within its gleaming heart it knew that this was the truth, even as its mind denied the obvious facts, refusing to admit the spark of fear that had wormed its way into its luminous soul. An impossibility made real by the spear carried by the Eldest Lizard and made manifest by its impossible prowess.
And whether it knew it or not the fear that it felt was justified, for it was faced with a foe that far surpassed it in the realm of arms, and upon who its divine techniques would be naught, but useless wisps struggling to find purchase upon a form that casually rejected such meagre attempts to influence it.
As another lord of the Second Circle fell into the embrace of true death, butchered into tiny chunks that fell weeping their blood to earth, Occanderael halted its flight to stare at the Lizardman leaping towards it as it prayed, mustering its hatred and contempt, armouring itself in spite made manifest as its burning blade came to its hand and its five times five whip sprang into being curled around its wrist.
It told itself the lies that it needed to hear. That it had stopped to deal with the irritation, that it was certain to win this fight as it had all others that it had engaged in the past, that there was none in existence save for the Emperor himself that could best it in combat. But these were, but the mind games all servants of the Abomination played upon themselves, for it stopped in truth because it had no other options. Its servants were doing little to slow the inevitable advance of the Ancient One supported as it was by the firepower of the world, while in turn it cut down Second after Second that could perform the needed rituals to bring their brother into the World and execute their duty. At the same time as it fled from him, in fear of being banished back to the warp and seeing their perfectly coordinated plan collapse due to lack of leadership time was running out. Their lord's patience was not infinite, and any risk of death on the spear of the Ancient One was preferable to the horrors it would experience if it failed and returned empty handed.
And so, it turned to face its eternal pursuer, giving the orders to the Seconds that remained to begin the ritual whilst he dealt with the interloper, preparing at last to engage in a true struggle for the first time in its neverborn life.
Angyls get afraid too you know! Their emotional range has a little bit more than just what they're given...its very little tho.
@Durin
- Location
- Earth
@Doomed Wombat seriously, how do you pump out so many omakes so fast? Do you have a secret omake factory stashed away somewhere?
- Location
- Brazil, Minas gerais
There probably someone daemon walking too deep in the warp hitting the meta, seeming the amount of ill energy (omakes) direct at them and slowing walking back^^.
I would use memes but since I don't have the rights of imagem. I thought better to not use them
I would use memes but since I don't have the rights of imagem. I thought better to not use them
- Location
- western US
somebody needs to put together a tally......
One Last Flight
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
One Last Flight
To those that approached the cave of Parathunisxaris, eldest of the Therondy Dragons and closest thing that species had to a leader their first experience of him would not be through sight. No, the first thing they would hear would be a cacophony of clicking as ancient bones and sinews propelled the failing body to where it needed to go.
The second experience that they would have of the Dragon would be through his vast hoard of trinkets, for as many of his kind did, he gathered them in huge quantities over the course of his life. Yet instead of cataloguing them the entire cave groaned under their unsorted weight, enough mystical firepower held within to turn an entire region to dust, left scatted and uncared for around the dragon's bedside, a reminder of its power, but also of its oncoming age.
At last then they would see the dragon upon its golden bed and most would remark equal parts terror and pity at the sight.
For while the Dragon was still clearly ferocious, his body larger than any other living Therondy Dragon, covered in so much scar tissue that it appeared nearly white, it was also clear that the ravages of age had affected him deeply. Scaly skin that should have been pulled taught over the still obvious muscles was wrinkled and sagging the dark blue scales that had once marked him turned pale with time and the eyes similarly almost blind as he looked across his assorted riches, dying a pitiful death to time, unable to find any other foe able to grant him a proper death.
And then it heard the music of the Cherubim as they made their way towards Dis, a heavenly choir that heralded disaster for the peoples of Avernus.
Yet Parathunisxaris heard this clarion call and was elated, for he knew what the sound meant. That a worthy opponent would soon be here and he needed to be ready.
Although his body was failing there was still strength within it surpassing any mortal engine, but his truth power lay still within his unsurpassed voice, which boomed across his cave gathering to him the items he needed as he forced himself to his feet.
As his body was anointed with oils to increase its strength and limberness, while silver plated armour, marked with the True Rune of Strength was hefted into place across his body and an orb of true thoughts connected him to every Therondy Dragon he could find, telling them frankly about his plan and that they were welcome to join him and those that did would be welcome to a fraction of his hoard were he to finally find his end.
Within a secret compartment, hidden near the back of his cave he opened the tiny box, reinforced with the most potent wards he could procure, revealing his most blessed and prized possession.
The Black Crystal Bracers almost seemed to stare back at him as he placed them upon his forelimbs the material instantly expanding to fit him properly despite starting at a size only a fraction of the size previously as he luxuriated in the burst of power that thrummed through his body as he equipped them.
Stepping forth from his cave, wings that had so long been held tight to his body unfurled as he launched himself into the skies, his voice splitting open the heavens above Trasacon, obliterating every Angyl that dared remain there in a single syllable.
Towards Dis, towards his doom, towards his destiny he smiled happily to himself as he flew one last time.
Never underestimate old dragons, they're old for a reason.
@Durin
To those that approached the cave of Parathunisxaris, eldest of the Therondy Dragons and closest thing that species had to a leader their first experience of him would not be through sight. No, the first thing they would hear would be a cacophony of clicking as ancient bones and sinews propelled the failing body to where it needed to go.
The second experience that they would have of the Dragon would be through his vast hoard of trinkets, for as many of his kind did, he gathered them in huge quantities over the course of his life. Yet instead of cataloguing them the entire cave groaned under their unsorted weight, enough mystical firepower held within to turn an entire region to dust, left scatted and uncared for around the dragon's bedside, a reminder of its power, but also of its oncoming age.
At last then they would see the dragon upon its golden bed and most would remark equal parts terror and pity at the sight.
For while the Dragon was still clearly ferocious, his body larger than any other living Therondy Dragon, covered in so much scar tissue that it appeared nearly white, it was also clear that the ravages of age had affected him deeply. Scaly skin that should have been pulled taught over the still obvious muscles was wrinkled and sagging the dark blue scales that had once marked him turned pale with time and the eyes similarly almost blind as he looked across his assorted riches, dying a pitiful death to time, unable to find any other foe able to grant him a proper death.
And then it heard the music of the Cherubim as they made their way towards Dis, a heavenly choir that heralded disaster for the peoples of Avernus.
Yet Parathunisxaris heard this clarion call and was elated, for he knew what the sound meant. That a worthy opponent would soon be here and he needed to be ready.
Although his body was failing there was still strength within it surpassing any mortal engine, but his truth power lay still within his unsurpassed voice, which boomed across his cave gathering to him the items he needed as he forced himself to his feet.
As his body was anointed with oils to increase its strength and limberness, while silver plated armour, marked with the True Rune of Strength was hefted into place across his body and an orb of true thoughts connected him to every Therondy Dragon he could find, telling them frankly about his plan and that they were welcome to join him and those that did would be welcome to a fraction of his hoard were he to finally find his end.
Within a secret compartment, hidden near the back of his cave he opened the tiny box, reinforced with the most potent wards he could procure, revealing his most blessed and prized possession.
The Black Crystal Bracers almost seemed to stare back at him as he placed them upon his forelimbs the material instantly expanding to fit him properly despite starting at a size only a fraction of the size previously as he luxuriated in the burst of power that thrummed through his body as he equipped them.
Stepping forth from his cave, wings that had so long been held tight to his body unfurled as he launched himself into the skies, his voice splitting open the heavens above Trasacon, obliterating every Angyl that dared remain there in a single syllable.
Towards Dis, towards his doom, towards his destiny he smiled happily to himself as he flew one last time.
Never underestimate old dragons, they're old for a reason.
@Durin
- Location
- Peterborough, NH, USA
There probably someone daemon walking too deep in the warp hitting the meta, seeming the amount of ill energy (omakes) direct at them and slowing walking back^^.
I would use memes but since I don't have the rights of imagem. I thought better to not use them
There's always the old fall back of The Memes Jack! Only replace Memes with Omakes.
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- Location
- western US
durin is currently watching....... (or at least has the tab left open)
wonder what he's thinking.......
wonder what he's thinking.......
The Race agains the Avalanche
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
The Race agains the Avalanche
Areatha shuddered as she breathed, raising her head up to glare at the frustrated Archangyls, taking a brief instant of momentary pleasure knowing that once again she had thwarted their designs, the rift they had created guttering out with disastrous consequences, as the power she had crafted to counter it causing immense backlash against its casters, loaded as it was with the Abomination's counter frequencies.
But, despite all her efforts she was steadily growing weaker. Ten times now she had managed to delay the ritual, aided by the forces Rotbart commanded and led, but she was strained to her limits and they were as well. There was only so much that they could do, for every time they successfully ended one ritual another would start up moments later, that they would have to scramble towards to end before it ground to completion allowing the other First instant access to assault Dis and slay Lin.
In preventing this they were united as one, which was why they were stunned as simultaneously five separate instances of the ritual began at once.
Rapid scouting with the assistance of the Eldar Seers confirmed the situation quickly, one ritual site was being handled by a Second Circle Archangyl while the other four were being done by groups of Third Circles.
The problem was that they were faced with an impossible choice. If they assaulted the ritual of the Second, they would likely take too long and at least one of the Thirds would finish theirs. They simply lacked the forces needed now to take down every site with a guaranteed chance of success…unless they used her.
She was strong enough that she could engage the Second and stop its ritual whilst the rest of the forces attacked the thirds. It was a desperate plan for her to do so nearly without support, for only the Ortillery and the Weapons would be able to really aid her in this endeavour, but she accepted immediately anyway, consuming an energy grub, feeling her power surge whilst she purged the toxins that developed within her system as a result of consuming it, as she teleported instantly to the ritual site, clouding herself in techniques designed to hide her explicitly from the sight of the Tyrant's slaves.
There the second floated, its entire concentrated focused upon the ritual of fifty million tormented souls within a destroyed suburb of the Lonely Citadel, as she gathered herself for the attack, knowing that it could well be her last.
From the safety of her hideout she activated the powers she was channelling, invoking the true rune of power and the power of abomination banishment at once, pushing them forwards in an immense wave to crash straight into her foes.
The effect was instantaneous, as the concept of freedom shattered the shackles that held the Angyl's guard within the materium, instantly dispersing a majority of them back to the warp, the Second itself hanging on by a thread, before it shuddered under her sudden offensive, stepping backwards as she clashed with it on every level, attempting to make contact with any of the thousands of techniques she had created for the banishment of Angyls.
Yet stubborn as it was, the Angyl was uncooperative, its hatred of her seeming to let it force itself to remain in the materium as it split its attentions between her and its ritual, fighting a furious defence to defend both.
As she struggled to bring it to an end, she saw in the distance another Angyl approaching and new she would not be able to defeat both before one finalised the ritual, if indeed she was not slain by their combined numbers as more and more Angyls floated in.
So she made a foolish decision.
She stepping in and through the swing of the Second Circle, suffering a sever wound as she did so, but managed to where the ritual was located, and rapidly modified it.
A tiny hole was created into the warp, and through this hole appeared instantly charged runes of fire.
Hundreds of them.
The subsequent explosion shoot warp and materium to their cores, as miles of ruins were reduced to little more than a crater, the Angyls banished instantly as they felt the impact twice over within reality and the warp, the sheer power of an overloaded rune a glorious sight to behold.
Areatha herself survived. Her body covered in warp induced burns she arrived back in Dis, her biomancy focused upon healing the Angyl created cut in her abdomen, but despite it all she grinned her success, as reports of Rotbart's forces also succeeding.
Once more they had bought time, but as she finished with her gash and began healing her burns she felt the ritual starting all over again.
They may keep winning battles, but the avalanche was not over.
I'm done for the evening, I've got no more juice left.
@Durin
Areatha shuddered as she breathed, raising her head up to glare at the frustrated Archangyls, taking a brief instant of momentary pleasure knowing that once again she had thwarted their designs, the rift they had created guttering out with disastrous consequences, as the power she had crafted to counter it causing immense backlash against its casters, loaded as it was with the Abomination's counter frequencies.
But, despite all her efforts she was steadily growing weaker. Ten times now she had managed to delay the ritual, aided by the forces Rotbart commanded and led, but she was strained to her limits and they were as well. There was only so much that they could do, for every time they successfully ended one ritual another would start up moments later, that they would have to scramble towards to end before it ground to completion allowing the other First instant access to assault Dis and slay Lin.
In preventing this they were united as one, which was why they were stunned as simultaneously five separate instances of the ritual began at once.
Rapid scouting with the assistance of the Eldar Seers confirmed the situation quickly, one ritual site was being handled by a Second Circle Archangyl while the other four were being done by groups of Third Circles.
The problem was that they were faced with an impossible choice. If they assaulted the ritual of the Second, they would likely take too long and at least one of the Thirds would finish theirs. They simply lacked the forces needed now to take down every site with a guaranteed chance of success…unless they used her.
She was strong enough that she could engage the Second and stop its ritual whilst the rest of the forces attacked the thirds. It was a desperate plan for her to do so nearly without support, for only the Ortillery and the Weapons would be able to really aid her in this endeavour, but she accepted immediately anyway, consuming an energy grub, feeling her power surge whilst she purged the toxins that developed within her system as a result of consuming it, as she teleported instantly to the ritual site, clouding herself in techniques designed to hide her explicitly from the sight of the Tyrant's slaves.
There the second floated, its entire concentrated focused upon the ritual of fifty million tormented souls within a destroyed suburb of the Lonely Citadel, as she gathered herself for the attack, knowing that it could well be her last.
From the safety of her hideout she activated the powers she was channelling, invoking the true rune of power and the power of abomination banishment at once, pushing them forwards in an immense wave to crash straight into her foes.
The effect was instantaneous, as the concept of freedom shattered the shackles that held the Angyl's guard within the materium, instantly dispersing a majority of them back to the warp, the Second itself hanging on by a thread, before it shuddered under her sudden offensive, stepping backwards as she clashed with it on every level, attempting to make contact with any of the thousands of techniques she had created for the banishment of Angyls.
Yet stubborn as it was, the Angyl was uncooperative, its hatred of her seeming to let it force itself to remain in the materium as it split its attentions between her and its ritual, fighting a furious defence to defend both.
As she struggled to bring it to an end, she saw in the distance another Angyl approaching and new she would not be able to defeat both before one finalised the ritual, if indeed she was not slain by their combined numbers as more and more Angyls floated in.
So she made a foolish decision.
She stepping in and through the swing of the Second Circle, suffering a sever wound as she did so, but managed to where the ritual was located, and rapidly modified it.
A tiny hole was created into the warp, and through this hole appeared instantly charged runes of fire.
Hundreds of them.
The subsequent explosion shoot warp and materium to their cores, as miles of ruins were reduced to little more than a crater, the Angyls banished instantly as they felt the impact twice over within reality and the warp, the sheer power of an overloaded rune a glorious sight to behold.
Areatha herself survived. Her body covered in warp induced burns she arrived back in Dis, her biomancy focused upon healing the Angyl created cut in her abdomen, but despite it all she grinned her success, as reports of Rotbart's forces also succeeding.
Once more they had bought time, but as she finished with her gash and began healing her burns she felt the ritual starting all over again.
They may keep winning battles, but the avalanche was not over.
I'm done for the evening, I've got no more juice left.
@Durin
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
-BREAKING NEWS-
Abomination's incursion into Avernus was interrupted by a SECOND incursion, made by DoomedWombat, minor god of Omakes.
Aetheric Concordat has yet to make a statement on the matter of this unorthodox appearance on the galactic stage.
Abomination's incursion into Avernus was interrupted by a SECOND incursion, made by DoomedWombat, minor god of Omakes.
Aetheric Concordat has yet to make a statement on the matter of this unorthodox appearance on the galactic stage.
Not what he Signed up For
- Location
- madison
Not what he Signed up For
This was not what he had signed up for. He'd taken this posting explicitly because he hated fighting.
"Flyers! Eyes up!"
A storm of steel needles flies forth, every last one finding purchase in the heads or wings of the attacking angyls, the small band disintegrating under the well-aimed barrage.
He was good at it sure, but he hated it.
"By the throne! The helguard lost out when you went into cooking."
Oops, he'd gotten too into it. He shrugged and went about reloading his weapon. Next, to him, Sarah laughed.
"You should see John during drills, he's either half asleep or moping the floor with everyone."
John shifted uncomfortably. "I just don't like hurting things is all." damn it, it's not his fault everyone is so slow.
He'd won them a brief reprieve with his shooting, the next assault would be timed to hit just after the expected time to death of the last. He just wished it wasn't spent talking about him.
Fred laughed as he sprinted off, trying to replace a few of the charges they'd had to blow in the last assault. At least they weren't only making fun of him.
"Alright, if they keep the pattern, and the bastards will, we've got one more wave before they spend the time to mass. We're going to use that time to fall back, but we need to hold until then or we won't make it to the next hardpoint."
John frowned. It was odd for a PDF office, especially one who'd been cut off from his unit, to know that much about the Enemy.
"Thank the throne for that, I'm almost out of ammo, these power packs ain't cheap you know."
Everyone rolled their eyes. Gloria had not missed a chance to brag about her new gun since managing to save up for a pulse carbine. Even if she was the second best shot in the squad it got old.
The officer chuckled, "there will be plenty of ammo at the next fall back point. Don't you worry."
Something tugged at johns instincts, but he ignored it for now.
"Contact!"
Another wave a damons rounded the corner, and once more they where met with a barrage of fire. This time, Jhon barely held back. Long bursts of heavy impaler fire striking with borderline inhuman accuracy. A dozen times in a handful of seconds, the head of the lead angle burst like overripe fruit as a dozen needler tore into it. John alone gunning down almost half the wave.
This time the silence was uncomfortable. He'd crossed a line, one that hinted that he was something strange, Jhon was surprised that it actually hurt.
"Alright, we need to fall back, now! Double time!"
The retreat was suspiciously uneventful, and the squad was painfully silent, but they made it to the bunker without issue, hooking up with the rest of the regiment.
"Hey, Jhon?" Sarah finally broke the quiet. "You're still cool." around him the rest of the squad nods. John smiled, it felt nice.
"I'm glad you've settled it, but if I could borrow your gunner for a bit?" the officer they'd met was smiling.
"Why?"
"Because I've got a use for a man of your talents."
John nodded and followed the officer deeper into the bunker.
"I have to say John, your a damn fine soldier."
John quietly nodded again.
"You know your duty, and don't seem to spend time on anything else."
Something was definitely wrong.
The officer pushed opened a door, revealing another three soldiers, one of them was in power armor.
"Is this him?" asked the power armored man. His voice sounded just ever so slightly strained.
Jhon scans the room, one man with an impaler, a pulse pistol at his side, power armored guys riffle is on his back, but look energy based, the officers got his hand on a heavy impaler pistol, a man in the corner cleaning a heavy impaler just so happens to have a clear shot on him.
"What's this about?"
"We think your talent is being wasted, you're doing good work with the militia, but you could do more elsewhere."
Johns' hands twitch. "I like where I am."
Its the officer this time. "Of course, but it's dark days, wouldn't you want to help more?"
Johns' teeth clench, but he nods.
"Good, here, take a look at this." power armored hands him a data slate. His eyes fall to it and
Obey
John feels a moment of relief that they're not arbites. Then his jaw splits as he spits a chitin harpoon through the power armored man's neck. Fallen or not, their still avneites, there is not a moment of hesitation, the heavy impalers opening up before the body hits the ground. he ignores it, shifting into a red mass of muscle and teeth, lunging at the man drawing a pulse pistol, the guns has just cleared the holster when he makes contact and tears at the sweet flesh. The cultists dies screaming, but the clatter of a dropped weapon signals a threat.
The offices halfway through drawing his pulse rifle, tendons flash form as he whips himself around, throwing the half-eaten corpse into the compromised officer. The man with the Impaler has only now realized kinetic rounds are no good, a dozen toothy tendrils fire out lithing quick as he reaches for a grenade. The man's hands become shredded meat and with a lurch, he's pulled into the writhing mass. The officers getting up now, pulling the pin on a plasma grenade, but it's too late.
The mass of raw meat and teeth collapse into a humanoid form, armored chitin covering every surface. The right-hand swells grotesquely, before shooting out to crush the grenade in the officer's hand. eliciting a scream and smoothing the blast.
"Xeno filth!"
The thing that called itself Jhon shrugs. He'd reply, but he doesn't have a voicebox right now. Instead, he simply reaches out with his other hand and pops the cultists head off. The flesh of his hand melts and shifts into the dying brain, connecting to synapses while Jhon probes the dying mind for information. The officer had been a good man, his will strong but no match for the thing that had tainted him. John is quite sure had his mind been whole and hale he would have gotten nothing, but the taint has rotted his will, introduced weaknesses and blind spots. It takes him 10 minutes to pull the names and faces of everyone else in the conspiracy from him, another 5 to copy his mannerisms and memories, and 3 to fool his biometric dog tags, then Jhon is officer Robert, or at least a good enough imitation to fool cultists.
Robert feels a twinge, he'd quite liked being Jhon. but well, nothing for it. There would be too many questions if Jhon survived this. Sighing, Robert plucks a satchel charge from a mangled corpse, thinking of a tale about an infiltrator to report to Roberts superiors, and of a botched conversion for his true masters. The charge is set, and Roberts walks away, wounds opening across his body to sell his story.
"Infiltrators! Infiltrators in the bunker!"
Behind him, the satchel charge detonates and obliterates the evidence. Roberts hated fighting, he'd volunteered to infiltrate the humans specifically because he hated fighting. But it seemed that no matter what he did, he found himself doing so. With a sigh, Roberts limped towards his next massacre.
@Durin another omake for the pile. thanks to anders110 for the idea. If the imperium can make an alex mercer knock off with nid DNA, I figure the PM should be able to do the same.
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sabreFather
Dr Pepper is the flavour that I savour
- Location
- Land of Bears and Loggers AKA Oregon
Nitpick: Its name is Sanctus Furorem. It's armed with a shoulder Titan Conversion Beamer (for long range strikes), a shoulder Gravitic Missile Launcher for AA fire, one arm is a plasma Destroyer while the other is a Triple-Linked Neutron Obliterator. And it has two Titanic Plasma Foils for melee. All this in addition to Titanic Chun-Li Kicks
Other than that, kill that angyl bitch!
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
make it a 4th circle and it gets canon
- Location
- madison
- Location
- western US
so PM sent a Alex mercer knock off huh?
cool, as long as hes not planning any shenanigans.....
- Location
- Somewhere on Earth
Random's idea is that it's a very, very new People based off of designs in the Norn Queen. There's not many of them, but they're all transhuman flesh monsters.
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- Location
- madison
oh the PM didn't send him. they're a people, not a guardian. he's spying on his races behalf, but I'm sure it'll be fine. what's the worst that could happen?