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. Enjoy y'all!

Part 17-Memory

“Where in hell's name have you been the past week?” Serrio asked as he saw Alicarius come into his office in Castle Chorrol's barracks. “I've had a hellish time coping without a superior to answer to. People seem to think that just because I'm your lieutenant half my orders aren't valid. The amount of pay cuts I've had to issue is ridiculous, and half of them have been disputed on the grounds of 'lack of proper authority!'”

“Sounds bad,” Alicarius said.

“Tell me about it,” Serrio muttered, before turning on him with; “Well, where have you been?”

“The Imperial City, then Kvatch, then Weynon Priory, then Cloud Ruler Temple,” Alicarius said. “Don't ask.”

“Kvatch?” Serrio asked. “You were there? Is it actually true, the things that all happened there, with the daedra?”

Alicarius nodded.

“I was there,” he said. “Had to fight half the bastards myself.”

Serrio looked awestruck.

“So the 'hero of Kvatch' stuff I've been hearing is all true then?” he asked. “Did you really kill a daedroth with your bare hands?”

Alicarius nodded.

“Just don't get me to do it again-I'd much rather have my halberd to hand,” he said. “But haven't you heard about it fully?”

“There were a few reports, but nothing concrete,” Serrio said. “In fact, most of them were pretty poor.”

“It was bad stuff,” Alicarius said. “And to top it all, the Emperor is dead.”

Serrio leant back against his chair and exhaled deeply.

“Oh dear,” he said slowly. “So it is true.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “I was there at the time.”

“That's not going to be good at all,” Serrio said. “That'll mean one thing-panic. And the last thing we want is people panicking while there's an army of daedra running around. And of course, there are going to be a whole load of people in the other provinces who'll realise that now is an ideal time to invade and get control of the Empire for themselves.”

“Hold on a moment. Did you say you didn't have a superior to answer to?” Alicarius asked, remembering something Serrio had said when he had come in. “What happened to Commander Bittneld?”

“Bittneld?” Serrio said. “He's not a commander any more-he's officially retired and you're in charge now. You've got his quarters and I've got a week's back pay for you somewhere.”

“His quarters?” Alicarius asked.

“Of course he has quarters here,” Serrio said. “No more renting out a room at the Grey Mare for you, my friend. You've inherited his office too.”

Serrio suddenly sniffed.

“Before you do anything else though, get a bath,” he said. “You smell terrible.”

#

Thoroughly scrubbed and wearing a simple shirt, jerkin and pair of trousers, Alicarius entered Bittneld's old office to find Serrio waiting for him. He had an ominously large pile of papers in his hands.

“All the work we need to get done,” Serrio said. “Most of this just needs signing, but some of it's stuff that you need to fill out yourself.”

The work was mind numbingly dull, but, compared to the battle at Kvatch, blissfully relaxing. He talked with Serrio during the time they spent filling out forms, catching up with all the things that had been happening during the week. The most interesting thing in Serrio's one had been clearing out a nest of ogres, which wasn't, as he said, much in comparison to the glory Alicarius had been earning in Kvatch.

But finally, they were finished. Alicarius let Serrio head off to his own bed in his quarters, before heading upstairs to get some sleep himself.

Bittneld's room had been stripped of all furniture except for a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a bedroll on the floor and a small desk. In a corner was a large box-Alicarius saw some of his clothes on the top. On the top of the table was a note addressed to him, written in Bittneld's cramped handwriting.

Alicarius

I've heard a few things about what happened in Kvatch, and if they are true then I congratulate you. However, this is just a farewell, unfortunately, and I doubt we shall meet again soon. I have retired to Anvil, and as such have taken a few things with me that, hopefully, you won't need, including the whiskey cabinet (as you have said to me, you don't drink), and the bed, which would be unable to support your weight. If you do wish to get one, I recommend speaking to Romilda Hervannis in Cheyindal-her furniture is excellently made, to order. Apart from that, the room here is yours to do with as you please. I wish you the best of luck in the pursuit of your duties, and give you my blessing for the future.

Yours,
Bittneld

Alicarius placed the note back on the table, then removed his shirt, revealing a chest that was heavily scarred and his black carapace-the organ that allowed him to mentally control his power armour. He lay down on the bedroll to get some sleep.

To find himself in a grassy savannah.

He looked around, suddenly confused. He had just gone to sleep in his new quarters, and now he was here. So something must have happened to take him here. So if he had gone to sleep, then this must be some kind of dream. But that was impossible-space marines didn't dream when in hypersleep. So, this obviously was of some importance.

“Legion!” he called out, guessing that the haughty daemon may have a hand in this strange event. However, there was no reply except for the grass rustling in the wind.

He discovered he was wearing nothing but a loincloth-even his black carapace was gone, however the surgery scars inflicted when it had been grafted on were still present. There was a vague familiarity about the situation, a strange sense of deja vu, but Alicarius couldn't place it-he had never fought in an environment like this one. The closest comparison he could make to it was the fight for the agri world of Golgis III, with its large fields of wheat and barley. He remembered being attacked by a field full of corn as one of the most bizarre experiences in his life, but Chaos' touch could extend to everything, be it organic or even machine.

So, he was in a completely unfamiliar environment, unarmed and armoured, and in a dream most likely sent by somebody hostile. If it wasn't Legion's doing, not that Alicarius would trust the daemon anyway, then who's was it?

The sound of fighting was suddenly carried to him by the wind, roars of rage and pain echoing across the savannah. Alicarius approached it cautiously, marshalling his psychic powers in preparation for a fight. Even if he was at the mercy of some daemon and this was a trap, then he would still go down fighting.

The noise intensified, and as Alicarius rounded a copse of trees he saw the source.

There were two figures, each with the build of an astarte, fighting furiously. One of them gleamed with a light bright enough to block out any details upon them, while the other was cloaked in a rolling cloud of darkness.

They wrestled with a relentless, fearless fury Alicarius had never seen before from anyone, man or astarte. Neither backed down as they attempted to floor the other one, punching, biting and kicking furiously in an attempt to defeat their opponent. But gradually, the one cloaked in darkness began to gain the upper hand as he floored his enemy with a slice to the ankle. Immediately, he fell upon the shining figure, his hands around his throat, the shadow around him flowing out to consume him. There was a brief struggle, then suddenly the darkness dissipated, leaving nothing.

Alicarius stayed where he was, waiting for something to happen, but after a full minute passed, nothing did. He was about to leave, and explore this world further, before something compelled him to turn around.

Behind him stood the dark figure. It nodded a greeting to him, and then the black clouds shrouding it retreated, revealing the mysterious figure fully.

It was him.

Wearing the same clothing as him, and sporting a wry grin, the shadow-Alicarius gave him a look that said 'I know you, my friend, and soon I'm going to get you.'

Alicarius gave a yell of; “No!” and punched out the shadow-Alicarius, who simply caught his fist in his hand. Alicarius felt his strength suddenly drain out of him, and he collapsed on weak knees.

Then behind a voice yelled out; “Begone! I command you to leave!”

Something like fear showed in the shadow-Alicarius' eyes and, releasing its grip on Alicarius' hands, it fled. Alicarius, feeling his strength return to him, stood and turned to see his saviour.

He was tall, taller than even Alicarius, and surrounded by an air of great, benign wisdom. Patrician features looked down upon him, eyes filled with great knowledge, calm and sadness in equal measures watched him.

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, feeling awestruck by the aura of power that surrounded the new arrival.

“I have gone by many names,” the man said. “Some have called me Solomon, some have called me Moses, Caesar, Saladin, Gandhi or Churchill. Even here they have a name for me-they call me Talos. But you have always known me as The Emperor.”

Alicarius dropped to his knees, head bowed.

“My lord,” he said quietly. “It is...it is an honour.”

He felt a strong hand upon his shoulder, and a gentle grip forced him to rise.

“Do not kneel before me, my son,” The Emperor said. “I have never wanted a man to bow down to me before, and I shall not have it now.”

“But, my lord, what do you want with me?” Alicarius said, still keeping his head bowed. “What are you doing here?”

“To remind you,” The Emperor said. “Of what once was. You saw your shadow self fighting that bright figure. Who do you think that was?”

“Me again,” Alicarius said.

The Emperor nodded.

“That was you, Alicarius,” The Emperor said. “The shadow figure was the Rage, that even now you struggle to control. You will fight it, and I know you shall fight hard, but it will not be enough. Eventually, it shall overwhelm you, when it does, Nirn shall be doomed.”

“Nirn shall be doomed? Will that mean that I won't be able to fight Mehrunes Dagon?” Alicarius asked.

“Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't,” The Emperor said. “That's all a matter of timing. But you know how hard it is to kill a berserk space marine. The people of Nirn will stand no chance against you-you will hunt them down and kill them all.”

“But, my lord, Nirn is, in all honesty, a hive of heresy against you,” Alicarius said. “It is filled with mutants and heretics and xenos. Surely you cannot...”

“Ten thousands years entombed on the Golden Throne gives you a long time to think about these things, my son,” The Emperor said. “I regret many of the decisions I made during the Great Crusade. Even I am fallible, Alicarius-the Horus Heresy is proof of that.”

“But I must contact the Imperium,” Alicarius said. “How can I return otherwise?”

“You cannot contact it,” The Emperor said. “The reasons are...complex, but you cannot leave Nirn. So I am appointing you its guardian. I have watched it for some time, as a kind of...hobby of mine, and I have come to love and care for it.”

“So did you arrange for me to come here?” Alicarius said.

The Emperor shook his head.

“I knew nothing of your arrival until you were summoned by the Mythic Dawn,” he said. “That was the work of some other party, or perhaps just of fate. But now you are here, I charge you with this duty.”

Alicarius bowed. As much as it went against everything he had been taught, if he had been given the command by the ruler of the Imperium himself then he would obey.

“My lord, you said that Nirn would be doomed if the Rage defeated me,” he said. “Is there some way to stop this happening?”

The Emperor nodded.

“Watch,” he said, turning to where the shadow-Alicarius and the shining one had fought.

They appeared again, wrestling with the same fearless fury, but there was something different about it.

Whenever the shadow-Alicarius seemed to be getting the upper hand, a slight figure, armed with a simple wooden spear, would dart from nowhere and viciously jab him, causing him to fall back in pain. Alicarius watched the figure with fascination. He was a boy, no more than thirteen years of age, yet wiry and strong thanks to years of hard living. Alicarius immediately put him down as an inhabitant of a feral world-whenever the Grey Knights had recruited from them, the boys put forward had always had the same wiry frame thanks to the hunting they constantly did and the little food they received in bad seasons.

The fight continued for a little longer, but the shining Alicarius and the boy eventually knocked the shadow-Alicarius to the ground, permanently. The shining Alicarius grabbed the shadow-Alicarius and began to throttle him, the light shining from him expanding until it engulfed all three figures.

“Who was that boy there?” Alicarius said. He knew he had seen him before, but even as he racked his brains, he could not place him.

“Don't you recognise him?” The Emperor asked. “You of all people should-after all, he was you.”

Alicarius suddenly dropped to his knees.

“I...what...how?” he murmured impotently, as a rush of memories flooded back to him suddenly. His childhood on Caractis, the time he spent hunting prey with his clan brothers, the Inquisition's discovery of his psychic powers and his sudden, cruel wrenching away from his home. And the creature he had discovered, the creature that had forced him to first use his powers, the creature that had slaughtered half of the clan. He suddenly recognised this place as his former home-he had hunted on the great plains many, many times, stalking the wild grox that grazed on them for food.

All initiates into the Grey Knights had their memories of their pasts wiped away, and the sudden rediscovery of them was one of the most shocking experiences in Alicarius' life. For a full ten minutes, he stayed on his knees, mute, his mind sent reeling from the sudden revelation The Emperor had revealed.

The Emperor kneeled down next to Alicarius, and laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“If you want to defeat the Rage for good, remember your past,” he said. “Remember that once you were like the humans you swore to protect. Only then can your mind be truly yours again.”

Alicarius nodded dumbly.

“You've done a damn fine job so far,” The Emperor said. “You can defeat Mehrunes Dagon. You will defeat Mehrunes Dagon.”

“I...I will,” Alicarius said, standing again. “I give you my word, my lord.”

“That is all I need,” The Emperor said. “Now go. There is much work to be done, and many hardships and dangers, but I you must be strong. You will overcome, my son. Now, wake up.”

And with that, Alicarius awoke to the darkness of his quarters, alone again.