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 now for the promised celebrity appearance. I think you'll recognise who it is when you see them.

Part 19-Politics

A week later, and Alicarius had arrived at the Imperial city. His time in Chorrol had been more relaxed, with him mainly sending out orders to various patrols and sergeants, and to have them delegated down to someone with, supposedly, more time on their hands. The most dangerous thing that had happened that week was to track down someone who had stolen an old widow's diamonds-the culprit was now going to spend the next few years doing hard labour.

But now he was back at the city again, now just a traveller, as opposed to a bodyguard for the Emperor. He shifted the heavy backpack that he had on his shoulders again as he slowly walked along the great stone bridge that was the only way into the city, admiring the view. At the gate, he was greeted by a pair of guards, who promptly let him into the city. One of them had his arm in a sling, and was giving Alicarius an evil look, though Alicarius couldn't guess why.

Once through the gates, Alicarius took a leisurely walk through the city's wide boulevards and roads, before finally reaching White Gold Tower and the centre of the city.

There a pair of guards were waiting at the entrance. One of them saluted as he approached.

“Just through the doors and into the central chamber for the meeting, sir,” he said.

Alicarius went through the palace's main doors, to be greeted by a herald, who blinked in surprise when he saw Alicarius, who was beginning to find that reaction fairly annoying, before clearing his throat and announcing; “Commander Alicarius Justinian, on behalf of the Imperial Legion.”

Alicarius entered the central council chamber, a room no doubt designed to inspire awe into visitors. Massive stained glass windows cast bright sunlight onto a huge stone table, around which almost two dozen stone chairs were situated. Some were already filled with dignitaries from the provinces-Alicarius recognised a khajiit, a breton and an argonian and their sycopahnts, but most were empty. He noted the name plates around them, and looked for his own, marked “Alicarius Justinian-Imperial Legion.”

He took his seat, which he noted was larger and wider, no doubt to accommodate his size and weight, and waited, ignoring some of the furtive looks the others were giving him. No doubt they were trying not to gawp, but he couldn't blame them for trying to get a look at the famous Hero of Kvatch. Only the Elswyr and Black Marsh representatives seemed unfazed by his presence-they seemed to be more interested in having a staring match with eachother. Alicarius remembered there was an age old rivalry between the races, and no doubt the two envoys were doing their best not to start hurling insults at eachother over the table.

“Lord Fulk Silvertounge, on behalf of the nation of Skyrim,” the herald announced. A nord man, his hair iron grey, walked in, the furs he wore flapping as he did so. He drew a few glances from the other envoys, but most of them seemed to feign disinterest. Behind him walked a pair of grizzled guards, wearing thick iron and leather armour similar to the kind used by the Legion. Both of them carried claymores, and a quick glance with Alicarius' mind-sight revealed they were heavily enchanted.

Fulk took the seat nearest to Alicarius', his guards obediently standing behind him. He ignored the space marine altogether,and instead contented himself by giving the other diplomats a critical look over.

“Lord Karraz daag-Kazrab, on behalf of the nation of Orsimer,” the herald announced, prompting the appearance of a burly orc, looking uncomfortable in a finely made velvet shirt. Alicarius' experience of orcs had still lead him to fairly similar ideas about the ones that inhabited the rest of the galaxy-they were crude, loud and easily angered. Hardly creatures suited for the arena of politics.

Various other diplomats from the provinces entered over the next ten minutes-a willowy high elf woman, a tall and well muscled reguard man, a stocky wood elf. The only arrival that really interested him was the woman who arrived second to last.

“Lady Serene Sarethi of House Redoran, on behalf of Morrowind and the Nerevarine,” the herald announced.

Alicarius was surprised to see the Serene was no dark elf, as he had expected, but instead an Imperial, with, somewhat confusingly, a surname fairly common amongst dark elves. Alicarius guessed that she must have married a dark elf at sometime in her life. She had a striking appearance-good looking, in a fairly middle aged way, with jet black hair, and was thin, but Alicairus could see a ripcord of muscle beneath her arms. Obviously, she knew how to use the large katana hanging around her waist. She took a seat a few away from Alicarius, shifting her weapon to a more comfortable position and gave him an interested glance, but making nothing more of him.

The last to arrive was High Chancellor Ocato. A high elf, dressed in finely made red robes, Ocato had a presence that caused everyone to see him. Alicarius could see the gleam of true cunning in the mer's eyes-it was obvious he was a skilled politician. He sat down, laid his staff on the table, and began to speak.

“You all know why you're here,” Ocato began. “The Empire is in a situation it has never been in before-we have no emperor. I don't need to tell you how how dire the situation is. Kvatch has already come under attack from an army of daedra, causing great loss of life. I don't know why they attacked, but there could be another one upon any city, in any province.”

“The daedra were defeated though, were they not?” the nord called Fulk asked.

“They were defeated, yes, thanks to commander Justinian's efforts,” Ocato said. “But he cannot be everywhere, and before that the city was, effectively, utterly levelled.”

“Isn't this absolutely fascinating,” Alicarius heard a familiar voice murmur in his ear. He momentarily gave a start, before looking to see an all too familiar figure sitting in the chair next to him.

“Legion,” Alicarius murmured. “What are doing here, daemon?”

“Oh, do drop that silly 'vile fiend' thing will you,” Legion murmured despairingly. “We both know you despise me, but I do find it awfully rude. I'm sure that you would if you were in my shoes.”

Alicarius grunted.

“So has your mysterious master sent you?” Alicarius asked.

“Oh no,” Legion replied. “I'm simply here to enjoy the politics.”

“You enjoy politics?” Alicarius asked.

“Of course I do, I am, after all, a daemon of Tzeentch,” Legion replied. “There's nothing I enjoy more than a bit of scheming-even more fun than the Sunday Times' cryptic crossword.”

“What's a crossword and what's the Sunday Times?” Alicarius asked.

“A crossword's a word game,” Legion explained in his condescending fashion. “You have to guess words given to you by clues. And the Sunday Times is a news scroll, like the Black Horse Courier, published on ancient Terra. Some of the clues they give are quite a challenge, even for me.”

“So this meeting is to discuss what to do in the impeding crisis,” Ocato said, finishing his speech. “Perhaps Commander Justinian could give us some advice, as he was present during the battle of Kvatch.”

“Yes, yes,” Alicarius said as he stood, clearing his throat. “You want to know about the daedra then? And how to defeat them? Well, I'll be blunt-it's practically impossible.”

There was a worried murmur around the hall, until Ocato asked for quiet.

“I wasn't present at the initial attack on Kvatch, but I heard about what happened from the survivors. They said the daedra had a siege weapon like no other, some said it was like a walking battering ram. Whatever it was, it went through Kvatch like a hot knife through butter- I completely tore up the town's gates and those of the castle with ease. Hardly anyone escaped, in fact, that anyone did at all is a miracle.”

“May I ask Commander Justinian a question?” the Hammerfell representative said.

“Ask away,” Alicarius replied.

“You said the daedra went through Kvatch like a hot knife through butter,” the redguard said. “But surely that's impossible-Kvatch is one of the most heavily fortified cities in all of Tamriel.”

“Which is precisely why the threat of a daedric invasion is such a great one,” Alicarius said. “There are gates that can be summoned up from nowhere, gates that allow a direct link from the material world to Oblivion. The one that was at Kvatch was opened directly outside the city by a deadric cultist. They could appear at any city, the daedra could pour out and slaughter the inhabitants and then leave.”

“And do you have any ideas about how to combat these daedra?” the Black Marsh representative asked.

“Yes I do,” Alicarius said. He reached inside his travel satchel and pulled out the stone from the tower, and laid it on the table. “This stone was powering the Oblivion gate. I took it, at great personal risk, from a tower inside the plane of Oblivion. When I did, the gate sealed itself and I appeared outside of Kvatch again. If a group of soldiers can do the same, then we could stand a chance of combating the daedra until a permanent solution can be found.”

There was some more murmuring around the table.

“My thanks, Commander Justinian,” Ocato said, as Alicarius sat down again. “I now open the floor to all speakers.”

“Well said,” Legion, who was now juggling a trio of pink fireballs, remarked as Alicarius sat down.

“Get rid of those things,” Alicarius hissed, before suddenly realising that no-one was staring at Legion. Even he would have-it wasn't every day you saw a man juggle pink fire every day. “Hold on, can anyone see you?”

“Only you, and possible Lady Sarethi, judging by the funny look she's giving me,” Legion said, before catching his fireballs in one hand and giving her a cheerful wave. “To everyone else, I'm invisible. Obviously Lady Sarethi is a fairly potent witch, if she can see me. I'd watch myself around her, if I were you-she's so sharp she could cut herself.”

“I thought you were supposed to be invisible anyway,” Alicarius pointed out.

“Oh, let me have my fun,” Legion said. “Anyway, I have already lent you a hand, invisibly.”

“You have?” Alicarius asked.

“Oh yes, at Kvatch,” Legion said. “I made sure the castle's gates were open.”

“They were completely destroyed,” Alicarius pointed out.

“Exactly,” Legion pointed out as he began to juggle again. “I just said to the battering ram what fun it would be to completely tear the gatehouse to shreds. If I hadn't, the castle's gates would be closed, and you would bravely volunteered to go through the secret passage to reach the gate opening mechanism. At which point, the daedra would have properly noticed Captain Matilas was counterattacking, and gone to deal with him. Then they would have also noticed that there were people in the chapel, meaning that Martin would have died, also meaning your brave efforts would have been for nothing.”

“So you were responsible for the deaths of those guarding the castle?” Alicarius asked, outraged.

“They were dead anyway,” Legion said. “The daedra would have broken through and massacred them all the same.”

Alicarius grunted in annoyance, but left the issue to lie.

The next few hours were punctuated by speeches from the other representatives, all of whom promised their support to the Empire. Alicarius cynically wondered how long the support would last before they decided it would be more advantageous to go their own way.

He mentally took a look at the different diplomat's minds. The khajiit one wanted to make sure that extra restrictions were put on Moon Sugar and Skooma usage were put in place, most likely to drive up prices and make the Elswyrian drug trade more profitable. The redguard, the orc and the nord were, wisely, more concerned about the military threat the daedra posed and the breton and high elf both seemed to think that Cyrodiil could be overrun by daedra as long as they weren't bothered by them. Idiots.

Then he felt a mental probe gently feel its way into his own mind. Alicarius immediately snapped on it, grabbed it using its own mind, noting a sudden panicked looked appear on Lady Sarethi's face.

He released his mental grip, and flashed her a sarcastic smile.

And what do you think you're doing in my mind? he asked her mentally.

I was simply curious about the Hero of Kvatch, she replied. And where exactly you came from.

Meet me after this, and I'll explain, Alicarius said. If this meeting ever ends, of course.

He did get a reply, but a feeling of assent and amusement.

Fortunately, the meeting ended as the sun finally set, prompting the dignitaries to leave the grand council chamber and into a large dining hall. The dinner was a sumptuous affair, but Alicarius ate sparingly, eating just a few slices of bread and sipping at some water.

“Before we leave, I would like to make a toast,” Ocato suddenly announced. “A toast of good faith, and to stability and peace in the Empire. And as the Hero of Kvatch, and esteemed commander of the Legion, I suggest that Alicarius be the first drinker.”

There was a “Hear hear!” from Fulk, who had drunk a little too much mead, and a quiet chuckle from the others.

The first drinker was a curious custom Alicarius discovered upon his arrival at Nirn. A guest would chosen from those present, usually one who had earned the privilege in some way, to be first to try a glass from fresh bottle of wine.

“And to mark the occasion, I have personally chosen a bottle from the palace's cellars,” Ocato continued. “A fine vintage that has been maturing there for almost two hundred years.”

The bottle was bought in on a trolley, and reverently lifting it up, Ocato uncorked it. A rich, heady scent filled the room, and just from smelling it, Alicarius could sense that it was a fine one indeed.

Ocato carefully poured the wine into the glasses, before offering one to Alicarius. Various servants took the glasses to the other dignitaries.

Carefully holding his glass, trying to crush it, Alicarius raised it, and announced; “To the long life of the Empire!” before taking a swig. His eyes widened in shock.

“To the long life of the Empire,” the others repeated. They raised their glasses to their lips, before Alicarius suddenly roared; “DO NOT DRINK IT!!”

The glasses froze where they were, the other regarding him with shocked eyes.

“Whyever not?” Fulk asked. “Is there something wrong with it.”

Alicarius took another sip of his wine to be sure, before feeling the metallic tang in his gut.

“It's poisoned,” he said. “I don't know by whom, but it definitely is.”

There was a shocked silence. Serene looked intently at her glass, murmuring the words for a spell. A green powder rose from the wine, and settled itself in a neat pile on the table.

“He's right,” she said. “It's Bloodwort powder-completely tasteless and scentless, but it's instantly deadly.”

“Then how come he managed to drink it?” Fulk pointed out. “He's fine, after all.”

There was outraged shouting from the other dignitaries, and for a moment it seemed a violent argument was about be sparked off. Alicarius saw only one way to diffuse the situation.

“SILENCE!!” he roared. Obediently, the dignitaries became quiet. You ignored a space marine at your peril.

“Space marines are immune to poisons, and can sense when they're present in food or drink,” Alicarius said. “It means we can fight anywhere we want. But we were lucky-if I had not been first drinker then I don't doubt that everyone else here is dead.”

“Then who could have poisoned it?” Karraz said.

“I can't be sure, but no doubt someone who wanted to set the provinces at eachother's throats and kill Ocato.”

The high chancellor himself looked somewhat ill-it did not bode well for him that his meeting had nearly ended in an absolute tragedy.

“And who would benefit from that?” the argonian representative asked.

“Someone who would like to see the Empire fall apart very much,” Alicarius said. “I would say the Mythic Dawn. They killed the Emperor, and I wouldn't put it past them to try and kill all of us.”

“And what are you doing to deal with them?” the high elf dignitary asked. “If they were bold enough to try this then I can't see how you've done much against the,

“I have already been hunting them down and trying to deal with them,” Alicarius said. “We have the Blades themselves trying to find them now, and this was most likely an act of desperation.”

“A hanging man will kick at anything as the noose tightens,” Fulk said, quoting the old nord saying. “He's right. They'll try anything now that they realise their days are numbered.”

“My point exactly,” Alicarius said.

Ocato nodded.

“I think, perhaps, now would be a time to get some sleep,” he said. “I can't say that I'm particularly keen on any pudding myself.”

#

Alicarius' room was fairly simple in comparison to the rooms reserved for the other dignitaries, but he preferred things that way-he never liked excessive ostentation and finery. There was also a hammock stretched between a wooden frame for him to sleep on, and a large rack reserved for his armour and halberd. The idea of the hammock appealed to him, and getting in, despite the slight problems with him nearly falling out at one point, found it very comfortable.

He soon went to sleep in the normal manner, deciding that if he had to get up with the others his hypersleep would leave him overtired. He slept quietly for a few hours, undisturbed.

Until he was woken by hearing the door open and quiet, stealthy feet pad in.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Feb 28 2009, 06:40 PM