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 the next part!

Part 22-Sickness

Alicarius was in darkness, shrouded in shadows, shadows that gnawed and scratched at him. He had to get them off, he had to remove them! He thrashed and kicked, swiping at the darkness that to engulf and smother him.

“Back!” he roared. “Get away from me! Away!”

He swung and punched at them, even as invisible hands tried to hold him back. Vaguely he heard voices.

“Oh gods, he's delirious.”

“Hold him down, there's no knowing the damage he'll do.”

He thrashed against one of the hands gripping him, and it retreated.

“My arm-what the hell has he done to it! For Azura's sake, someone get him with a sleeping spell!”

“What do you think I'm trying to do? Paralyse him-I need him still before I can do it properly.”

He suddenly felt a great weakness grip his limbs, and they collapsed.

“He's tired himself out. Quick, put the sleep spell on. We can't have him waking up and trying to kill everything while we get him to the infirmary.”

The darkness descended over Alicarius fully, and he could struggle no more.

#

“Who is The Emperor to you?” the warrior lord, looming, huge and dour eyed, asked the boy before him.

“The Emperor is the lord of the seasons and hunt,” the boy said. “He decides when the clan eats and when we move. He decides when the sun rises and falls. He decides when the herds which we hunt move through our territory.”

“Very good,” the warrior lord said. “And who is the voice of The Emperor?”

“His priests are his voice,” the boy answered.

The warrior lord nodded.

“And who is the arm of The Emperor?”

“His space marines and his soldiers.”

“And what does The Emperor want from his subjects?”

“He wants our devotion.”

“And what does The Emperor want from you?”

The boy hesitated, confused.

“My devotion?” he asked after a short pause.

The warrior lord frowned.

“Close enough,” he said. “Follow me.”

Obediently, the boy followed him.

“From now on, you will have no name,” the warrior lord said. “You will earn the privilege of a name if you survive the initiation. Until then, you will simply be called 'Aspirant.' Do you understand?”

The boy nodded.

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Good,” the warrior lord said. They reached a pair of granite doors, where they stopped. “Here you go on alone, without my guidance. This is the first of the six hundred and sixty six trials of detestation. You are a promising young man-I wish you luck, aspirant.”

“Thank you sir,” the boy said. “I will do my best.”

The warrior lord handed the boy a wooden spear.

“This will be the only weapons you can used during the first trial,” he said. “If you use any other, even your fists, you will be disqualified and denied the chance of ever joining our order.”

The boy nodded. Gently pushing him by the shoulder, the Warrior Lord opened the door and the boy found himself around the edge of an arena. He saw several other granite doors, next to which stood several young men like himself-the oldest was no older than fifteen. Bright lights shone down from the stone ceiling, while in a large viewing box stood another warrior lord. He had the same serious, critical air around him as the warrior lord who had mentored the boy had, and surveyed the young men, each of them holding spears, with a look that told him all he needed to know in a moment.

“Aspirants,” he said, his voice echoing in the enclosed stone room. “The first trial is a trial of strength. When I give the word, you will begin to fight, and you will kill if you must. When I call for a halt, you will halt immediately. Do you understand? Very good. Now, begin!”

Holding his spear, the boy advanced towards the person next to him cautiously, before suddenly hearing the sound of running feet behind him. He ducked and span, to graze the side of a young man charging at him.

“Oh no, he's having another fit again.”

“The sleeping spell, quick!”

He was knocked to the floor by the impact, and tried to rise, but suddenly found his limbs weak, like water. The others in the arena began to advance him. The boy tried desperately to raise his limbs, to fight, but found he was completely paralysed.

“Paralyse him, come on, hurry up!”

“Help!” he called, his child's voice weak and helpless. “Someone help! This isn't fair! This isn't how it was supposed to happen! Help!”

“Don't worry, we're helping you. Just go to sleep now.”

As the spears stabbed down, blackness took over.

#

“Will he be alright?”

“I don't know. I've never tried to heal someone like him before.”

“He's just like a normal human, isn't he? Just bigger.”

“He isn't, captain, you can see that. Just look at that thing on his chest-I daren't touch that, there's no knowing what'll happen if I do.”

“I don't care what it takes, sort him out.”

“What do you think I'm doing?”

“Well try harder. Use a spell or something.”

“I can't-whenever I do it just triggers another fit.”

“Well, I dunno, keep trying.”

“I have been, and it's not safe.”

“Well there's got to be something!”

“Captain, calm down. If you don't, I'll have to ask you to leave.”

“Sod you, I'm not leaving him.”

“Get out and get a drink of water or something. I won't have you in here if you're going to shout.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“Out, captain, now.”

“Fine, I'll go. For Akatosh's sake, I can't even visit my own friend without my damn authority being disputed. Some legion this is.”

#

The hand was cool as it was laid upon his brow, which creased instinctively.

“How is he?”

“He's not getting any better or worse. He's just staying in the same state.”

“Can I have moment alone with him please? Just a quick one.”

“Alright then. Call me if something happens.”

The gentle pressure of the hand was removed, and he felt a voice murmur in his ear; “It's me. Serene. Can you hear me?”

Serene. Serene. He knew that name. Where though? Where? Damn, he had to remember it! Remember!

Then he remembered. Serranna. Serranna, the girl he had loved, the girl with the wild, jet black hair and the blue eyes that he could stare into for hours. And there they were, sitting on the hill, the same hill that they always sat on.

“So you have to go then?” she asked. Her voice was flat and calm, accepting of the finality of his decision.

The boy nodded.

“I have to,” he said. “I must.”

“But...but you can't,” she said. “We were...”

“I know,” the boy said. “I know. It hurts me too.”

“Tashan, you can't do this to me,” Serranna said, eyes beginning to redden. “I lost all my family to that thing and I need you now, more than ever.”

“I have to go, they'll kill me if I don't,” he said. “I don't have a choice. But if I do, think of all things I can do to protect the Imperium.”

“I don't care about the Imperium,” Serranna replied, throwing her arms around him. “I just care about you.”

“So do I, Serranna, but I keep saying, I have to,” Tashan replied. “Look, the inquisitor said I could even join the space marines, that they're always looking for strong young men. Think of the people I could help then, the glory I could earn.”

Serranna suddenly drew back, angry.

“Is that all you ever think about?” she demanded suddenly, trying to blink back the tears in her eyes. “Your own selfish glory?”

“What? I...no,” Tashan said. “Of course I don't. I think about you more than anything.”

“I hope you do,” Serranna said. She slumped against him, and began to cry out and out. Tashan felt his own eyes sting and he held her tightly. “Don't leave me, please.”

“I don't want to,” he said. “But I don't have a choice.”

“We always have a choice,” Serranna replied, into his shoulder.

“Not this time,” Tashan said.

“Then make me a promise,” she said suddenly.

“Anything,” Tashan said.

“Promise that you'll never forget me,” she said. “Ever.”

“I promise,” Tashan replied. “I swear I will remember you, always.”

But he hadn't. He'd broken his promise when all memories of his former home were wiped away, when they had been replaced with nothing but devotion to the Emperor.

“I'm sorry, Serranna!” he called out. “I'm so, so sorry! Please, please, forgive me.”

He began to weep openly, reaching out to her and holding her tighter than before.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, opening his eyes.

Then he realised she was screaming in pain.

He released his grip suddenly, and awoke fully to the Imperial Palace's infirmary. A high elf in white robes rushed in while Serene staggered back, shocked and stunned.

“What?” Alicarius asked impotently. “No, you aren't her. I was so close. So damn close!”

With a yell of frustration, he punched the wall, the plaster crumbling away underneath the impact.

“Alicarius, what are you doing?” Serene asked. “Are you alright?”

“I...I don't know,” he said. “I just don't know any more.”

“What happened?” the elf asked.

“He just grabbed me, and started shouting to someone called Serranna how sorry he was,” Serene said.

“I did?” Alicarius asked, suddenly concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Serene said. “But you gave me quite a shock.”

“I'm sorry,” Alicarius said. “I don't know what came over me.”

“It's alright,” Serene said. “You didn't know what you were doing. Who was this Serranna you were shouting about, though?”

“She was the girl I was going to marry, before I became a space marine,” Alicarius said. “I had my memories of her erased when I joined them, so I wouldn't be distracted from my duties.”

“That...that's horrible,” Serene said.

“That's the Imperium,” Alicarius said phlegmatically. “But you, Serene, you look just like her.”

“What?” Serene asked. “How?”

“I don't know,” Alicarius said. “But you do-the same hair, the same eyes, the same kind of face, even a similar name.”

“Look, Alicarius, you need to get some sleep,” the elf, no doubt the healer in charge, said. “Lady Sarethi, if you could leave him, he needs rest.”

Serene nodded.

“I'll go then,” she said. “Goodnight, Alicarius.”

“Goodnight,” Alicarius said, as the healer and Serene left. He didn't sleep though-he was too busy thinking.