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 some more.

Part 12-Kvatch

Nothing can stop a space marine when he has a mission. He can be delayed, he can be diverted, but if he must get somewhere, he will get there-nothing short of killing him will stop him.

Thus was the case with Alicarius. He left the darkness of the Imperial City's ancient passages, and into the city. A few guards attempted to stop him, no doubt trying to find out what had become of the Emperor, but he simply stepped through them. After he broke the arm of a particularly persistent guard, the others got the hint and left him be.

So he continued onwards, relentless and implacable.

He travelled for almost twenty four solid hours, not bothering with resting-he simply allowed one half of his brain to go into hyper-sleep for a few hours, to keep it working fully, before switching to the other half. A Minotaur attempted to stop him, but Alicarius simply hammered his fist into the beast's skull without breaking stride, leaving it to die.

By the time he had reached Weynon Priory, his mind had gone into a zone of perfect, determined calm. Nothing would stop him in his execution of his duty.

He knocked on the door of the priory, to be greeted by a monk.

“What is it?” he snapped irritably, no doubt irritated by being disturbed at such a late hour. Then he saw Alicarius' massive bulk fully, and his draw dropped in surprise. “You're the Grey Knight, aren't you?”

Alicarius nodded.

“I need to Jauffre,” he said. “Immediately.”

“What about?” the monk asked.

“It's a matter of utmost urgency,” Alicarius said. “It would be in the best interests of all if you let me in.”

The monk allowed him in, unwilling to argue with the space marine.

“Jauffre's up the stairs, to the right,” he said.

Alicarius made his way up the wooden steps, hoping that they would support his weight. Fortunately they did, but that had always been a concern of his after he had almost fallen through the floorboards of Chorrol's Fighters Guild headquarters.

Jauffre was at a desk, writing out something at a desk with a quill. He was dressed in simple monk's robes, but Alicarius could tell that the elderly man had been, and was more, than just a humble monk.

“So you've arrived,” Jauffre said, barely looking up from his writing. “I've been expecting you, and I'm grateful that you came as quickly as you did. According to the message Baurus sent me via carrier pigeon, you have an amulet.”

“I have it right here,” Alicarius said. He reached into a specially sealed part of his power armour and produced the amulet. He'd scanned it via his mind sight, and had discovered it was a powerful magical artefact, yet it seemed to be different from many of the other enchanted items that abounded on this world-not only was it vastly powerful, but the power had a different quality to it. It was vaguely reminiscent to the psychic wards the Grey Knights placed upon their armour, ones drawing upon the divine power of the Emperor as opposed to that of the warp.

Jauffre breathed a sigh of relief as he inspected the amulet.

“This is it, thank goodness,” he said.

“I didn't just come to deliver the amulet,” Alicarius said. “There was a lost heir mentioned. Is this true?”

“It's true,” Jauffre said. “An illegitimate son, but nonetheless a son who can relight the dragonfires.”

“Dragonfires?” Alicarius asked.

“The dragonfires reside in the Temple of the Nine in the Imperial City,” Jauffre said. “They can only be lit by those who have the blood of the Septims. There was a son, called Martin-he lives in Kvatch, as a priest. I was ordered to keep an eye on him when he was young. But did the Emperor say anything else?”

“He said to close shut the jaws of Oblivion,” Alicarius said. “Whatever that means, it sounds ominous.”

Jauffre took a deep, contemplative breath before speaking.

“There's only thing I can think of that that would mean,” he said eventually. “And I can only hope that it is not true.”

“What would that be?” Alicarius asked.

“You know of Oblivion, the realm of the daedra?” Jauffre asked. Alicarius nodded-the very first thing he had come across in Nirn had been a nest of daedra worshippers, after all. “It could be that the dragonfires may form a barrier between this world and there. Uriel often hinted at that sort of thing, but never said anything definite-he always loved a riddle.”

“So you fear a daedric invasion?” Alicarius asked. Part of him was already priming itself for combat-he was made to fight daemons, in whatever forms they presented themselves, and would do so, no matter what.

“That's precisely what I think may be happening,” Jauffre replied. “But we need to prioritise-we must find Martin and get the dragonfires lit. If we can manage that quickly enough then we may be able to stop the invasion before it starts.”

Alicarius nodded.

“I'll get to Kvatch immediately,” he said.

#

Alicarius rested a few hours before he left, allowing his brain to catch up on some much needed sleep. But after his short break, he made his way to Kvatch. Hopefully, he could find Martin, get him safely back to Weynon Priory and have the dragonfires relit within a few days.

But he had a gut feeling that things weren't going to be as simple as that. The Mythic Dawn seemed to be outwit and outmanoeuvre both him and the Blades, and he was expecting trouble at the city.

But Alicarius had never expected trouble on the scale he discovered.

His first clue that something was wrong was the storm. It was like no other storm he had ever seen. The sky turned a deep crimson, black clouds rumbled with threatening thunder and golden lightning flashed across the sky. He scanned it with his mind sight and discovered a haze of warp energy hidden in the clouds. It was a classic indicator of one the worst fates to befall a world-daemonic invasion.

He increased his pace, and in the distance noted the pall of smoke, like that of some great signal flame. It didn't take a genius to guess that Kvatch had been attacked. He cursed inwardly-if he hadn't wasted those few hours sleeping, then perhaps he could have arrived in time to help...

He banished the thought from his head-if he hadn't slept then he wouldn't have been as prepared for a fight as he was now. And there was still a chance Martin was alive. It was a small one, but Alicarius had to find out for certain.

He switched to mind sight again, as soon as the city's massive walls came into view. Kvatch was built on a plateau, a veritable fortress with only a single path up to the entrance. Against a normal foe this would prove to be a bloody and dangerous method of attack, but Alicarius knew how daemons fought. He knew how they could simply materialise out of thin air, warping reality itself, and he as saw the city with his mind sight, he knew it had happened here-Kvatch was covered in a multicoloured, swirling corona of warp energy.

He increased his pace to steady trot, his boots thudding in the dust of the road. Then a canter, and finally a full blown sprint, a small cloud of dust being kicked up behind him. He marshalled his psychic powers, channelling his mind energy into his halberd and activating its force sheathe. He prayed the wards on his armour would still work, and murmured an old, familiar phrase.

“I am the hammer.”

He arrived at the base of the road to the city.

“I am the shield that guards His people.”

A panicked elf dashed past him as he headed upwards.

“I am the sword that smites His foes.”

He entered what seemed to be a hastily erected camp, to be seen by dozens of desperate, tired eyes.

“It's the Grey Knight!” he heard someone call. “Thank the Nine, the Grey Knight has come!”

There was a ragged cheer from the refugee camp, and Alicarius suddenly found himself surrounded by a small crowd and bombarded by questions.

“When is the rest of the legion going to arrive?”

“Can you look for my wife, Saske?”

“Are you the only one coming?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Silence!” Alicarius suddenly shouted, causing the crowd to step back. He could see these people were desperate, and needed some kind of saviour. No doubt they had already given that duty to him. “I need to know what happened here.”

“It was the daedra,” a man answered. “They appeared in a great portal, a whole army of them. They had a huge machine, a giant walking battering ram, and it just tore down the walls. Some of us managed to escape, but I don't know about the others-I think they're all dead. Captain Matilas is up the road-he organised the defences, and got us out of here. I think that we're all that's left.”

“There's still hope,” Alicarius replied, sounding far more certain than he felt. He could hardly see it himself, but he had to keep these people calm. The last thing he needed was panicked civilians. “I'm looking for a priest named Martin. Is he here?”

No-one stepped forward, and the someone levelled an accusation.

“What about my son?” a Nord woman asked. “Why aren't you looking for him?”

“What about Saske?”

“What about my husband?”

“My daughter?”

“My father?”

“QUIET!” Alicarius roared, amplifying his voice through his helmet's vox-casters. The crowd fell back again, frightened of incurring the giant's wrath. “I will look for your relatives, rescue whoever I can, but finding Martin is of utmost importance. He is our only chance of stopping more attacks on other cities.”

The Imperial who had become the group's spokesman stepped forwards again.

“If you want to find Martin then speak to Savlian Matilas,” he said. “He's at the barricades up the road, keeping the daedra at bay. He'll know what to do.”

The group parted to let him through. Alicarius saw the hope in their eyes, and suddenly felt the weight of duty on his shoulders. They were relying on him, both as an astarte and as a legionnaire, to protect them and eliminate the daedra. He could not, would not, let them down.

At the top of the hill, Alicarius noticed several spike barricades, made of wood. Behind them, about half a dozen men, some armed with bows, others with swords and shields, were waiting. One noticed him and ran over.

“What's your business here?” he asked. “You been sent by the Legion?”

“In a way,” Alicarius replied. “I'm need to speak to Captain Matilas.”

“You already are,” the soldier replied. “What do you want.”

“I need to find the priest, Martin,” Alicarius said. “I was told you could help.”

“I didn't see Martin when we escaped,” Captain Matilas replied. “He must still be inside the city. Your guess is as good as mine as to whether or not he's alive.”

“Then we need to get in there as soon as possible,” Alicarius replied. He was surprised to see Savlian give a sarcastic laugh.

“Have you seen that thing? We can't get in until that goes,” he said, pointing towards a massive, swirling, firy eye in front of the gate. Alicarius recognised it as a warp portal in an instant. “There's no way we can stop it from here. Someone has to go in there and close it, and I don't fancy my chances of being able to do it.”

“I will,” Alicarius said. “I know how to fight daedra.”

Alicarius was given an appraising look by Captain Matilas.

“You might just manage it,” he said. “But if you go in there, it's your funeral.”

Alicarius nodded. He vaulted over one of the barricades in a single massive leap, his impact cracking some of the dried and weakened stones on the other side. He activated his halberd, lightning crackling along its blade.

Alone he went, his armour illuminated by the harsh light of the warp portal.

Alone he went, into the eye of Oblivion.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Jan 18 2009, 06:01 PM