Grey Knight, Warhammer 40,000 meets the Elder scrolls Options

[Colonel Mustard]

This is an idea I had a while ago, and had been entertaining for a while. As you may have guessed by the subtitle, this is an Elder Scrolls/40K crossover. For those you don’t know the rich lore of 40K, here’s a rough image of it.

It is the 41st millennium, and war has raged for eternity. The mighty empire of humanity, the Imperium of Man, rules the galaxy, home to a million worlds and untold trillions of people. Guided by its divine Emperor, interred on the golden throne after being wounded by his most favour son, the Imperium is a force that seems unstoppable. Yet mankind’s great empire is beset on all side by aliens, traitors and, most fearful of all, the daemons of the warp. These creatures, existing in a realm not dissimilar to Oblivion, are the most deadly threat to all living things. Existing in the warp are the four Gods of Chaos, Khorne, blood of skulls, death and battle, Slaanesh, God of Debauchery, Nurgle, god of decay and disease and Tzeentch, the god of plots and cunning, the weaver of fates and destinies, playing the great game of existence with the skill of a grand master. Whether they are united or they are divided, the four gods of chaos plot, scheme and plan to destroy the material world and make it one with the warp, damning all living things to a nightmarish existence of eternal torment.

And to fight these foes are the mightiest of warriors. The Space Marines, the Adeptus Astartes, the greatest warriors ever to stride upon a battlefield. Made by the divine Emperor of Mankind, each Space Marine is genetically engineered to be stronger, faster and far longer lived by any ordinary man, and psycho-indoctrinated to know no fear. Wielding the most powerful weapons and armours humanity has available; the Space Marines form an impenetrable bulwark against the foes of man. And greatest among them are the Grey Knights, Humanity’s last line of defence against the denizens of the Warp. The military branch of the Emperor’s Holy Inquisition; the Grey Knights are clad in blessed adamantium and wield the fabled Nemesis force weapons. Each one of these holy warriors is able to fight and defeat an army single handed. And now, a company of these blessed warriors has been sent to combat the dread army of Askillarrat the Insane, a greater daemon of Tzeentch, and amongst them is the fabled Brother Captain Alicarius.

Grey Knight-Book One of the Liber Oblivionicus

Part 1-Daemons

Purple flames clawed the sky like the talons of some bizarre, reality defying monster. Buildings were consumed by its twisting blaze, it intense heat melting the rockcrete and steel that made them up, slumping them down into a thick syrupy liquid.

And in the flames, creatures charged forward. Twisting and dancing impossibly, Daemonettes, the alluring yet repellent servants of Slaanesh, made their way through the flames, giggling and singing sweetly. Next to them shambled the Plaguebearers. Corrupted hulks, with a single eye and a horn sprouting form their foreheads, they dripped with disease, buboes spilling pus and gashes in their stomach spilling thick, rubbery intestines. They carried huge, rusted blades, thick with rotten blood and the entrails of their foes, whilst flies buzzed about them, occasionally stopping on their host to feast on a small part of rotten flesh.

Next to them sprinted Bloodletters, murderous servants of Khorne. Their skin, coloured blood red, split and bled constantly, an unending tribute to their monstrous patron. They hefted great broadswords, roaring and screaming in their hatred.

And most bizarre of all were the daemons of Tzeentch.

To behold a creature of such madness and lack of logic was enough to drive most men insane. The cavorting and twisting monstrosities giggled with insane laughter as they advanced, flames crackling around them. Faces formed on their bodies, in any place they could, sometime even being held between their outstretched hands.

And against this horde of unholy death stood fifty of the Imperium’s finest warriors. Nemesis force weapons were activated, electricity crackling around the blessed halberds and claymores. Storm bolters, mounted on the wrists of suits of adamantium armour, were cocked and loaded. The Grey Knights were the only force that stood between the Daemons and the utter annihilation of the planet.

Brother-Captain Alicarius muttered the prayer of vengeance as he slammed the specially made magazine of bullets into his weapon. Around him, warriors murmured prayers to the God-Emperor as they prepared for battle, checking weaponry systems and getting into battle formation. Behind, he heard Brother Deacus attach a tank of prometheus into his incinerator, the highly volatile fuel having been blessed and mixed with holy oils to cause the most damage possible to their daemonic foes.

The warriors took up their battle positions, and allowed the auto-senses in their helms to pick their targets and display their range.

The Daemons thundered onwards, approaching faster than ever.

“Pick Targets!” shouteded Alicarius. “On my order…fire!”

Bolter shells ripped from the Grey Knight lines, the bullets detonating inside their targets, causing the daemons to be blasted apart.

Yet they continued.

The Daemons came within Incinerator range, and burning blue fuel was jettisoned onto the creatures, burning many of them to cinders. Their screams echoed across the battlefield.

Then the creatures were upon the Grey Knight lines.

Alicarius swung his halberd in an arc, slicing through a bloodletter, before spinning and planting it in the bloated, rotten belly of plaguebearer. He yanked his weapon upwards, sending an arc of rotten gore flying into the air, before it splattered onto his armour. It hissed as it contacted the blessed adamantium, the ichors reacting violently with the holy oils and unguents upon the armour.

Alicarius span and slashed with his brothers, slicing through the daemons, bellowing litanies and prayers and sending off bursts of bolter fire at point blank range into any Daemon foolish enough to get close enough.

Suddenly, he was slammed to the ground by something that looked like a mechanical rhinoceros made of reddened brass, ridden by a Bloodletter. A Bloodcrusher of Khorne-a dread knight of the Blood God. The rider’s massive obsidian sword made a swing for Alicarius’ head, but he jerked his neck back to avoid being decapitated. He raised his own weapon and slashed through his enemy and its mount. Gore and mechanical parts scattered around him, and Alicarius rolled to his feet, slamming his blade into a daemonette too slow to avoid him. Then he was wreathed in blue fire.

He stood his ground, his body battling against the flames’ physical assault and his mind fighting the sorcerous one attempting to consume his soul. He took a step forwards, then another, constantly pushing against the power of the flames, to be confronted with the most bizarre creature possible.

Its body was shifting mass of purple-blue flames, while screaming maws that belched fire twisted and writhed around its body. Alicarius’ halberd slice through it, and it disappeared in a cloud of glittering blue smoke.

He turned as his hyper-enhanced senses picked up the sound of someone moving behind him. He span, storm bolter raised, to see a monstrous creature born of man’s worst nightmares. Similar to some massive, bipedal vulture, the creature’s multicoloured feathers flickered and twitched madly. In one of its clawed hands it held a staff, crackling with sorcerous power.

It was a Lord of Change, a greater daemon of Tzeentch and most powerful of his servants.

Alicarius let of a burst of fire with his storm bolter, the weapon’s immense recoil dampened by the servos contained within his armour, but it was to no avail. Even with the innumerable blessing laid upon them, the explosive bullets could not penetrate the shield of magical power that guarded the daemon. Hefting his halberd, he charged.

His first blow was blocked by the daemon’s staff, but Alicarius could see that its daemonic creature within it was struggling to repulse the holy power of his weapon. He span, allowing his momentum to carry him away from the daemon, before his weapon sliced through the monster’s ankle.

At least, it would have done.

With a boom of air being suddenly misplaced, the daemon disappeared, and reappeared to his left instantaneously.

“Very good, captain!” it roared over din, its beak clacking with every word. “But you won’t kill me that easily.

It leapt forward, attempting to crush him with its taloned feet, but Alicarius had expected this and simply dodged out of the way. He turned, just in time to block the daemon’s descending staff. It withdrew, only to strike again, but Alicarius parried it before charging forward, allowing his weight and momentum to plough him into the monstrous bird-creature. It reacted too slowly, and roared with pain as the sigils and wards upon Alicarius’s shoulder guard touched its skin, burning and blackening it. In return, it sent a blast of warp fuelled lightning towards him, but the same psychic shields that had just hurt it so stopped the attack.

“You cannot beat me,” it shouted. “No-one can beat me!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure!” he shouted.

The daemon raised a multicoloured eyebrow.

“Behind you,” Alicarius murmured.

The daemon turned, cautiously keeping an eye on him to ensure against a surprise attack. Then it saw two grey knights carrying incinerators behind it. It didn’t have time to dodge before burning promethium, mixed with blessed oils and unguents, was pumped directly onto it.

It jerked and spasmed as the hyper-volatile fuel gushed over it, and fell to the floor, writhing in agony. The burning hot assault abated suddenly, and Alicarius nodded his thanks to his two battle-brothers.

“I said you shouldn’t be so sure,” he said, as he walked over to the daemon, his blade raised and readied to deliver the killing blow.

“Neither should you,” the deamon riposted, its beak splitting in a perverse mirror of a grin. A barrier of warp fuelled lightning formed around them, crackling and twisting madly. Alicarius tried to back away, but the lightning would not let him pass, at least, not let him pass without burning him to a crisp.

The light shone brightly over them, dazzling Alicarius even through his helmet’s filters, and the only noise louder than the crackling was the daemon’s laughter.

“You’re coming with me now!” he roared. “I’ll torture your soul for eternity!”

“Never!” Alicarius roared back.

As the warp and reality began to merge around him in the tiny, self contained space, Alicarius did the only thing he could. He turned, sprinted, and plunged his blade into the daemon’s feathered breast, killing both its physical form and the essence of it soul.

And around him, reality shattered in a flash of light, sucking him into the warp.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Feb 22 2009, 04:37 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

And here's part five!

Part 5-The Dead

Three weeks later

The zombie gave a groaning howl as it shambled towards Alicarius. It took a slow, clumsy, swing at him, but the thing’s deadened brain had not seemed to compute the fact that Alicarius was too far away, and it stumbled forwards, into the Space Marine’s reach. Alicarius simply grabbed its rotting head in one hand and swung, pulverising the walking corpse against the cave’s stone wall.

Pathetic.

Alicarius kicked down the wooden door that partitioned off part of the cave and into yet another of the large caverns that it was made of. Three walking skeletons, their bones flickering with warp magic to Alicarius’ mind-sight, turned and hissed, drawing weapons. One of them, holding a bow, let loose an arrow, but the wooden shaft shattered against Alicarius’ power armour. The other two charged, hefting their swords but Alicarius grabbed one the weapon and bent it with his fingers, ignoring the other as it bounced off his armour. He yanked the weapon away, wrenching the bones on of the shoulder socket, and sending the skeleton staggering, pushing the other way with a powerful shove.

Alicarius gathered his psychic powers, that seemed to have been greatly enhanced since he had been present on this world, and sent three beams of psychically empowered light into the walking bones, melting the ancient calcium with its intensity.

He carried on through the cave entrance to be halted by a screaming apparition swooping towards him. Alicarius swiped at the wraith as it slashed at him with an ancient sword, his halberd’s blade slicing through the apparitions form with ease. It fell apart in scraps of white light, which faded into the ground.

The cave branched into two separate corridors, and from one of these glowed a shimmering white light-his target. Alicarius stepped along the corridor towards it.

In the centre of the cave a figure floated, glowing with an inner light. Ancient robes fluttered gently on a breeze not of this world, wrapping a frame of bones, with a few scraps of rotten flesh stubbornly clinging to them. An ancient crown of tarnished gold decorated a skull with burning lights in its eye sockets.

It was a lich-a necromancer of such power that he had transcended life itself.

The being gave a start as it saw Alicarius enter, its eye flaring with light in surprise.

”What do you want, living?” it asked, its voice an echoing hiss.

“Mythic Dawn,” Alicarius replied. “What do you know of them?”

The lich gave him an indecipherable look.

“I know many things of them,” the lich replied. “The question is, what doyou know?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alicarius asked.

“Never disturb a lich unless you wish for death!” the ghostly creature hissed.

It sent a bolt of energy towards him, but the ward placed upon Alicarius’ armour flared with light and sent the magic scattering away, and the Astarte responded by sending a blast of psychic energy towards the lich, sending the creature flying backwards to land with the chink of bone.

He wasted no time in pressing his advantage home and leapt forwards, grabbing the thing’s skeletal throat.

“Talk,” he hissed. “Tell me everything off the Mythic Dawn, now!”

“You’ll get nothing from me!” it replied, snarling furiously.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, abomination,” Alicarius said. He remembered the advice Serrio had given him before he left-all Lichs have a weakness, something that bound them to the physical world. Extending his mind-sight, Alicarius mentally searched the room, scanning for anything that would allow him to exploit the once living mage’s weakness. He found it, a book pulsing with magical power, on the lich’s own person. He grabbed it, and saw the orange lights in the lich’s eye sockets flare in alarm.

He flicked the book open, keeping a colossal knee on the undead creature’s chest, and read a few pages-it was a journal of some sort.

“So, Kirrlinno,” he said, reading the name. “You still don’t want to talk?”

The long dead mage shook its head stubbornly, and so, slowly and carefully, Alicarius selected a page and ripped it from the book, causing the necromancer to convulse, pain running through its unearthly nervous system.

“Just tell me all that you know of the Mythic Dawn and I’ll leave you be,” Alicarius said patiently.

“Hah!” Kirrlinno said bitterly. “Our kind are never left be. You hunt us, you murder us. For what crimes? I did nothing wrong. I simply wished to live longer, we all do. What use are corpses? We give them a purpose-we recycle them and let them live again. Is there anything wrong through granting the gift of life again?”

Alicarius ignored him and ripped another page from the book, causing the lich to twitch and spasm in pain again.

“I will not talk!”

Alicarius delivered a punch to the living cadaver’s face, the force of the blow ending clinking chips of bone scattering across the stone floor. He slammed the skull against the floor. Realising that this method would not work, Alicarius abandoned it for a different approach.

He flicked through the journal, before chancing across a sketch of an Imperial woman. Judging by the sketch, she was obviously high born and most likely considered to be greatly beautiful.

“Who’s this then?” he asked Kirrlinno, showing him the sketch. “Anyone you know?”

He made a gesture to tear out the sketch, but was stopped by a cry of “No!”.

Alicarius stopped.

“So now you’re willing to talk? Will you tell me what you know of the Mythic Dawn now?”

“So you can join their ranks? Never.” the lich hissed.

“Join them?” Alicarius said. “I wish to see their extermination, and will destroy them.”

There was a silence.

“This changes things,” the lich said. “Could you let me up please?”

Alicarius carefully did so, keeping his halberd at the ready.

“Who was that woman?” Alicarius asked. “It doesn’t take a genius to see that you loved her.”

“She was…she was my bride,” Kirrlinno said. “Before we found the Mythic Dawn.”

“Found them?”

“Mankar Camoran,” Kirrlinno answered. “Him and his little club of daedra worshippers. We were naïve then-we thought that it was up to our generation to improve the Empire, to rebuild it, and Camoran offered us a chance to.”

“Rebuild the Empire?”

“It was a wild time-the Nerevarine had been assassinated and it seemed that Vvardenfel was on the verge of collapsing into civil war and dragging the rest of Tamriel with it.

“And Mankar Camoran offered a chance to rebuild it with his cult?”

“Exactly. Ah, the irony-a devotee to the daedric prince of destruction promising to rebuild the Empire. We should have listened, but we were taken in. Sarranna, my wife, was taken in. I began to study and question and Mankar turned the cult against me. I was cast out from all society-the legion would kill me as a daedra worshipper and the daedra worshippers viewed me as a traitor. I was brutally thrown out of any community, and parted from my wife forever.”

A tear, born of some long dead gland, trickled down Kirrlinno’s skeletal face.

“So I discovered necromancy-a chance to get the power to exact my vengeance on the cult. I practiced my dark arts with the goal of vengeance in mind, vowing to destroy the people who had stolen my love from me. And now I discover you, some superhuman warrior who wishes to see the Mythic Dawn annihilated.”

“You wish me to carry out your vengeance for you?”

“You defeated a lich in a magical duel-few can do that, and yet you have trained in combat as well. You are stronger than any man that I have ever met and yet you have something on you that is not of this world. If you could defeat my guards and me, what trouble would you have with a group of cultists? You hate them, I hate them, it only makes sense for us to not kill each other.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Very well,” he said eventually, handing back the journal. “You may live.”

“Here,” Kirrlinno said, handing back a sheathe of notes. “This is all the information I’ve compiled on the Mythic Dawn. Make good use of it. And take this.”

He handed Alicarius his staff, the ancient and gnarled wood practically crackling with suppressed power.

“I can merge it with your halberd-it will enhance your abilities, your magical powers. You’ll need it more than I. Just give me your weapon and I shall do it.”

Alicarius passed the staff and halberd back to the necromancer. For a brief moment, a crackle of pure white lightning flashed between the two objects, before they merged together. Kirrlinno handed it back to Alicarius, who inspected the weapon.

Where the haft had once been satin black, it was now gnarled old wood. The blade remained the same, still shining in silver, but as well as the litanies carved into the adamantium, ancient words of power sparkled and glimmered as well.

Alicarius bowed his head in thanks-the staff was an ancient and powerful object, and Alicarius could easily appreciated the significance it represented as a gift. He turned to leave, holding the notes in one hand and his halberd in the other.

“Before you leave, one last thing,” the Liche said.

“What?”

“When you find the Mythic Dawn, make them suffer.”

This post has been edited by The Bean: Nov 25 2008, 08:23 PM